The Death of Robin Hood
by Laatija
Summary: A new comer teaches Gisborne and the Sheriff a thing or two about breaking a man. This is Robin's spiraling descent into utter ambiguity. NOT A DEATH FIC! Rated for violence.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: No i don't own Robin Hood...go ahead, rub it in...jerk...

A/N: Here it is, my crack at a very dramatic dark Robin Hood fic. Robin doesn't actually die, so don't complain! For further warning, this story is very intense and dark!

**UPDATE: This story has gone through a serious overhaul. Some chapters (like this first one) only needed some cosmetic changes to grammar and spelling and the like. Other chapters have had some hardcore corrective surgery. I'm still not completely satisfied but it's infinitely better than it was before. I can only hope my previous readers will agree.**

* * *

**The Death Of Robin Hood**

"Who are they?" Will whispered low. His head turned sideways to glance at Robin who was lying flat next to him.

"I don't know," the outlaw whispered just as low. They watched two brightly colored wagons as they were being pulled along by heavy pie-bald horses.

"Maybe it's a tinker?" Little John said quietly from his position on Robin's other side.

"Shh!" Djaq hissed from her hidden position in the tree.

"Could be a magician," Allan suggested in a not-so-quiet whisper.

"Hush!" Djaq hissed again.

"Maybe it's a trap?" Much muttered worriedly. A pinecone bounced off the top of his head.

"Be. Quiet," the thickly accented voice warned from above. Robin smiled.

"Whoever they are, perhaps we should welcome them to our little forest." He pushed himself up and brushed off the dirt and leaves from his chest. "Come on gang."

* * *

**Early that Day…**

"And you're sure it's ready?" the Sheriff asked for the umpteenth time. Gisborne sighed angrily.

"Yes, I'm sure it's ready! They know what to do and I promised them enough gold to make them happy," he snapped. There was a moment of petulant silence. "I don't need him to make Hood suffer."

"Gisborne…"

"Why don't we just kill 'im?"

"Because I want him to be broken. There is an art to these things Gisborne. Which is why I've hired a professional."

"What if he gets away?"

"Is it ready?"

"Yes!"

"Then he won't get away."

* * *

**Present Time…**

Robin ran his hand over the bi-colored rump of the first horse. He smiled at the scowling old woman in the driver's seat. "Good day, welcome to Sherwood. And who might you be?"

There was no answer.

The others quickly searched through the wagons. Robin leaned to the side and caught John's eye. The big man shook his head which meant only one thing: nothing of interest here. Robin smiled again at the woman and moved to see for himself. The first wagon had a man, a woman, and two children in it. They sat amongst piles of belongings. They reminded Robin of the nomads in the Holy Land. A quick look at the other wagon showed it to be full of more belongings. Robin quickly decided that these people meant no harm. He walked back up to the old woman.

"I do not know where you are going or if you can understand me but if you can, do not stop in Nottingham. Just stay on the road and keep going," Robin warned. Then he lightly slapped the horse on its flank and backed away with another smile. The woman still eyed him suspiciously but then slapped the rains against the creatures back and the wagon started forward with a groan. The second wagon started to follow and Robin and his men gathered off the road, ready to disappear into the woods. But then a high whinny pulled Robin's attention back to the wagon. The big horse was pawing at the ground with a massive hoof and snorting like it had just inhaled a bee. The young boy in the driver's seat slapped the rains and made coxing noises to try and get the horse to move but still nothing happened. The first wagon simply continued on, gaining speed and starting to disappear around the corner.

"Will, run and tell the other wagon to turn back," Robin ordered. Then he started for the horse in distress. The beast was rearing up now and the boy was growing frantic. Much yelled out warning. John ran down to help. Djaq and Allan simply stood and watched.

Quite suddenly, the horse stopped snorting and crumpled to the ground just as Robin got to it. One of the wooden shafts connecting the horse to the wagon snapped as the big piece of horse flesh suddenly dropped onto it. The boy leapt off the wagon and was at the horse's side in an instant. Robin shared an exasperated look with Little John. The big man leaned down and placed a hand on the horse's shoulder.

"Robin?" There was sudden alarm in John's voice. Robin looked down at John's hand which held a small feather tipped dart.

This was wrong.

This was an ambush.

"Master!" Much shrieked across the forest. "The soldiers are coming!" Robin's head whipped around. Sure enough, the telltale flash of the Sheriffs colors bounced in amongst the trees a good deal off. This was _so_ not good.

"Everybody run!" he shouted to his men.

Something suddenly tugged at Robin's wrist and he looked down to find a heavy iron shackle around it - a shackle that just so happened to be connected to a chain which was connected to the solid wood of the wagon. The boy took off running then, as fast as his little legs would go - a long key dangling from his clenched fist. Robin's eyes grew round. John didn't give it a moments thought before tearing off after the boy with the key. Much and the others were running towards him… but that was just what Gisborne wanted, Robin was sure of it!

"No! Run!" he shouted. Allan hesitated. Djaq and Much did not.

"We are not leaving you!" the manservant insisted.

"Much, you are no good to me dead, now go! John will get me out." Robin looked more to Djaq. She could read him well. "Go, now," Robin growled. The Saracen grabbed Much's sleeve and yanked him back to the safety of the forest. That left only John and Robin. The boy was much faster than the larger man and Robin knew it. That meant he was down to himself. He scanned the wagon but saw nothing of use so he dug an arrow out and started to pick at the wood that held the chain.

Desperation drives one to improbable tasks.

"Don't even try it Locksley." Gisborne's voice cut through the air.

There was a moment of ridiculous indignation in which Robin hacked frantically at the wagon. But that moment ended in a heartbeat and Robin dropped his head with a heavy sigh. He carefully collected his senses and wits behind a cool demeanor.

"Excellent work Gisborne. Very clever," Robin finally conceded, half turning to look at Gisborne. "Who thought of this one? Surely not you or the Sheriff, it's much too imaginative," he goaded. Robin caught sight of Little John in the distance, toying with his big wooden staff. He slowly tilted his head to the side and stared hard at the man for a split second. John hesitated then backed off behind some bushes. Robin sensed, rather than saw, Gisborne leaning against the wagon.

"You're getting sloppy Hood," the other man said casually then turned to one of the many armed soldiers. "Go get the key from the boy. Give this to his grandmother." Gisborne tossed a small heavy looking sack to a soldier who rode off immediately.

"You're really ready for another round Gisborne?" Robin asked with a coy smile. "Have you fully recovered your pride from last time?" Robin knew he was setting himself up for a punch to the nose but he also knew that when that happened, Gisborne lost something – control, intelligence. A little nose blood and some broken cartilage was an easy price.

The other man glared at him for a moment then gave him a twisted smile. "Are you ready for a new opponent Locksley?"

"Oh I do hope he's better than what I've been up against so far. Beating you so easily gets a bit tedious sometimes," Robin said with a cheeky grin. And there it was. Something snapped behind Gisborne's eyes and his hand was curling into a fist.

"Gisborne! Do not let him get to you!" A new voice rang out in the forest. Robin finally turned around and looked to see a short-ish man clad in a heavy cloak and hood. His face was hidden in shadow. Robin smiled cheekily again.

"Welcome to my forest," he said brightly, despite the unease that rolled in his stomach.

The newcomer was silent for a brief moment before turning to Gisborne. "He is arrogant and clever, you are not to allow him to control the conversation." The voice was low and gravely. "You have made him comfortable with your incompetence."

"Now now," Robin tisked. "Don't blame Gisborne. It's not all his fault. Don't you know who I am? I am Ro—" Quite suddenly the butt of a spear came speeding towards him, hitting Robin square in the throat with a tremendous force. Pain exploded along the length of his neck. A strangled noise squawked past his lips as he fought to breathe and control the pain _and_ not choke on his tongue which felt like it had detached and was skidding down a tunnel of broken glass. His legs crumpled beneath him, leaving one arm awkwardly pinned to the wagon as his free hand instantly clapped protectively around his neck. It was a cold and calculated blow of the sort that left one reeling in a blind scramble to recover.

"Gisborne, you will not use his name nor allow him to use it," the low voice commanded. "Call him whatever you wish but you will not use his name. Robin Hood is dead."

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED...


	2. Chapter 2

**UPDATE: This story has gone through a serious overhaul. Some chapters (like the first one) only needed some cosmetic changes to grammar and spelling and the like. Other chapters have had some hardcore corrective surgery. I'm still not completely satisfied but it's infinitely better than it was before. I can only hope my previous readers will agree.**

* * *

Much watched with wide eyes from the safety of a clump of boulders. The other outlaws gathered around behind him.

"What do we do?" Allen whispered harshly into Much's ear. The manservant wanted to slug him.

"I'm going to go after them… fight every last one…" Much muttered. There was a heavy hand on his shoulder and he didn't need to look up to know that John had arrived.

"We wait. Then we go to Nottingham and rescue Robin," the big man said quietly in the way that said there would be no arguments to the contrary. Much wanted to slug _him_ too. They watched helplessly as Gisborne and his men surrounded Robin, who was smiling in that cocky way of his. Words were being exchanged between the outlaw and lawman but those words were not heard from where the others crouched. But that hardly mattered - Much could read Gisborne like a book. The man was tense and angry and typical. Surely they would get Robin out in no time at all…

A new figure entered the scene on a dapple gray horse. A war horse of the finest quality. Both Gisborne and Robin turned their attention to the cloaked man who had dismounted and slowly walked towards them, a heavy looking spear in his hand. More words were being exchanged Much surmised, but he couldn't see anyone's face anymore so he couldn't be sure. Then, quite out of the blue, the cloaked man was swinging his spear in Robin's direction. Robin crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut. Much didn't even realize he was jumping up until two sets of hands were pulling him back down again.

"Release me!" he started to yell. He hardly had the first syllable out before a soft feminine hand clamped over his mouth. Much struggled against them but knew the effort was futile. Eventually, he grew still. It was then that the hands released him. By the time Much had pulled himself up again, his master was gone and only a single pair of boots, a broken down wagon, and a dead horse showed that anyone living had been there in the first place.

Robin was gone.

* * *

Marian swung her leg over the saddle and dropped gracefully down to the packed earth that was the stable floor. She patted the hard sweat soaked shoulder of her bay mare then started to unbuckle the various bits of tack. She pulled off the bridle and hung it on a peg. Marian had just pulled off the sweaty saddle when she heard the sound of stealthy footsteps. She smiled and started to turn.

"You need to be more quite… Will?" She hadn't been expecting the younger outlaw to be standing there. Marian felt a pang of disappointment that it wasn't Robin.

"Sorry to bother you," the younger man said. He had a look in his eyes that bothered Marian. "There's been trouble."

"What has happened?" A feeling of dread wormed its way into her stomach.

"Robin…he's been captured."

"When?"

"A few hours ago."

Marian put the saddle back on her horse and reached for the bridle. "I will go the castle and find him," she said firmly.

"But you can't get him out on your own," Will insisted.

"I know. But you can get him out faster if you know where he is. Get the others ready, we need to rescue him before the Sheriff gets any ideas about execution." She knew she was sounding bossy but she had good reason - the man she loved was in danger. Will just nodded emphatically and ran off. Marian had her horse tacked again but she didn't mount up yet. She ran inside first, stuffed her Night Watchman garb into a bag and slung the bag over her shoulder. Then she swung up into the saddle and slapped the tired horse into a begrudged gallop.

She needed to see a man about a prison.

* * *

Robin's head swam through an amazingly painful haze as he stared at the rough burlap sack that was covering his head. The air was stale and old in his sack and he kept gagging on the stench of his own sweat and blood as the heat of summer combined with the restricting fabric to create a sort of oven.

Robin was hanging onto consciousness by a thread. It had been discovered that running barefoot and blindfolded through a thick forest was a very bad idea. It is even worse when one had ones hands tied behind ones back. It is worse still when one is being yanked along by a rope around ones neck. All in all, the trip to the castle had been a very uncomfortable experience, unlike being knocked unconscious or simply being jostled along by foot soldiers, as was normal treatment for Robin and his men. This trip had been torture in and off itself as Robin unwittingly stepped on many a sharp stick and rock and his forehead made friends with several low-hanging branches. By the time his feet felt the cold hard stone of a castle, he was listing to one side, getting ready to pass out. Only a bucket of lukewarm water revived him enough to be shackled to the wall, burlap sack still in place.

That had been nearly a day ago.

And he still couldn't breathe properly nor could he swallow the spit that pooled in his mouth without a sharp needlelike pain stabbing into his neck. Talking would be a nightmare that he was not relishing.

A door opened somewhere near. Heavy footsteps descended down a staircase. Anxiety thrummed across his skull.

"This…this is a beautiful site." The Sheriffs voice. "I am impressed Malys, very impressed."

Malys. Robin's new tormentor had a name.

Someone tugged the sack off his head. Fibers from the burlap snaked up his nose and he sneezed into the face of the Sheriff.

"Good morning Vaizey," Robin said with a proud smirk. His voice cracked and squeaked like a boy going through puberty. The Sheriff, in turn, smirked at him while he whipped away the sneeze. But he said nothing, just turned sharply and disappeared up the stairway.

Strange.

Gisborne and the newcomer, Malys, were sharing a whispered conversation. Robin caught a few words of it but it was none of the words clicked together. Every now and then Gisborne would glare over at him for the briefest of moments then turn back to his conversation.

"It's not polite to whisper you know." Robin forced the pathetic words out of his abused throat. The sound was almost like a disgruntled puppy. It would seem as though they'd almost forgotten about him. Robin couldn't have that.

The other two men stared at him. Malys' stare was cold and dead. Gisborne's was smug and mocking. But neither man said anything. They just went back to their whispered conversation. Robin frowned.

Then he actually _looked_ at his current situation. His arms were spread wide and shackled to the wall. He couldn't properly stand up straight but neither could he let his weight hang down without it hurting. He studied the chains. They were new and shiny. So were the shackles. And the brackets that held the chains to the wall. And the locks were different. This set-up seemed too expensive for the shabby dungeons of Nottingham. Robin looked around at the room. It was relatively short with one small square window a foot from the ceiling. The walls were made of large stone blocks and thick wooden beams. The uneven floor was hard packed earth. The room wasn't all that large. There was about two feet from each of Robin's outstretched arms to the other wall, which ran about twelve feet before coming to the far end of the room. There was one small wooden table in the center of the room. Opposite of Robin was a small opening which led to the staircase.

It was an extraordinarily simple room. What concerned him was one very startling fact.

This was not Nottingham.


	3. Chapter 3

**UPDATE: This story has gone through a serious overhaul. Some chapters (like the first one) only needed some cosmetic changes to grammar and spelling and the like. Other chapters have had some hardcore corrective surgery. I'm still not completely satisfied but it's infinitely better than it was before. I can only hope my previous readers will agree.**

* * *

Marian walked quickly, head down, heart pounding. She forced herself to slow down and it took every ounce of willpower she had to do it. It wasn't like this was the first time Robin had gotten himself into trouble. And she surmised that it wouldn't be the last time she would be coming to rescue his skinny hide. But still, it was like raking her nerves over a bed of hot coals every single time. She loved that man and she swore it was going to kill her someday.

She frantically skipped forward a step then abruptly slowed her pace again. Marian wanted desperately to be hidden behind a mask. With each slow step, she seriously contemplated it. But she already had a good excuse to be down in the prison and she couldn't tempt fate and go a different path, especially with Sir Guy and the Sheriff out of town for the next few days. All she needed to do was to keep calm… Easier said then done.

Marian's feet padded silently down the steps into the dungeon. Her excuse was simple enough for the simple minded prison guard, Matthew. The man was a pig with a lust for ale. If anyone asked, Marian was simply delivering a message from Matthew's mother, along with a gift of the strongest ale in England. Ale that can get a man drunk in practically no time. Did she really know Matthew's mother? No. But the man had no friends who might know differently and was always half drunk anyway. This was one of those special tricks that one saved for just the right moment because they could not be easily used again.

"Who goes there?" A gruff voice jerked Marian from her racing thoughts.

"It is Lady Marian. Are you Matthew?" she asked the large man whose stomach was spilling out of his uniform.

"Yes. What business do you have down here, my lady?" Matthew asked. At least he had the good sense to be polite.

"I am here with a gift from your mother," she said lightly, holding out the note and dark bottle. The man completely ignored the note and snatched the bottle from her hands, uncorking it and taking a precautionary sniff before sipping at its contents. His eyes lit with greed.

"Good ol mum…" he mumbled. Then the eagerness slowly left him and Marian could guess what he was thinking.

"I won't tell the Sheriff if you wish to enjoy your gift," she said sneakily, lowering her voice. The man frowned, weighing the options. "How many prisoners do you really have to keep watch over?" she prodded.

"Not many…" Matthew said.

"Surely no dangerous outlaws…"

"No…I guess you're right." He smiled. Then narrowed his eyes. "And you'll be sure to keep your trap shut."

"Of course," Marian said sweetly. Matthew already downed several swigs. His eyes were squeezed shut in pleasure.

"Do you mind if I check to see if my cousin is down here?" Marian asked. The man took another swallow.

"Don't get too close to the bars," he said distractedly. Another swig. Marian smiled tightly.

"Thank you." Then she was trotting down the narrow corridor. It was lined with cells, most of which were empty. The few occupants were either dead or dying. No one new down here. Marian quickened her pace, head rotating back and forth, desperately searching the cells for the one familiar face she so longed to see. She came to the end of the cell block and descended down the stairs to the lower level with growing panic. All of the small square cells were empty. Marian's heart pounded. Her panicked breaths echoed down the corridor.

Robin was not here.

* * *

His wrists hurt.

It was amazing how one thing could be the catalyst for so many other problems. He'd lost the strength to stand after a day or so without food. That meant that all his weight was on his wrists, which also meant that his shoulders were wrenched up in an awkward position which sent shafts of pain down his back muscles which quivered from being so tense for so long. Being so close to the wall meant that he could lean his head back on it but that didn't do any favors for his swollen neck. And yet he couldn't let his head hang down without passing out from the pain in his back.

Robin pulled himself up, trying to ease his discomfort if only for a moment. The action backfired and white-hot pain stabbed down his spine before backtracking and spreading out across his shoulders. A quiet rush of bemoaned air slipped past his lips. But this was the hard part, Robin told himself. The sitting and waiting and hanging from your hands - this was the hardest part of being captured. Physical torture wasn't a picnic either but at least that was irregular - growing worse but fading away. Having the same constant pain was a steady drain on his soul.

Robin had tried to distract himself. He'd tried to think of the Sheriffs next move. This obviously wasn't Vaizey's style. No, Vaizey would've had him strung up yesterday. Or tortured for information the day before that. Probably both. But this time, Robin had seen next to no one down here. Occasionally Gisborne or Malys would come down check on the chains then search the room, presumably looking for signs that Robin had tried to escape. But then they would leave without another word. Once, a guard came down and let him drink a cup of water - to keep him from dying Robin assumed. Other then that, Robin had seen no one. Nor had he heard a word. Not one word. Robin couldn't imagine what the Sheriff had hoped to gain from this. He honestly didn't _want_ to imagine.

He gazed deliriously at the rough wooden ceiling, almost missing the sound of a door opening at the other end of the room, at the top of the mysterious staircase. With a groan, Robin forced his head forward, trying his best to ignore the pain which felt like molten steel pouring down his back. A pair of boots suddenly appeared on the top step and slowly made their way downward until a full body appeared above the boots.

Malys.

The man regarded him with an indifferent gaze as he set a sack on the small wooden table in the center of the room. With slow, easy steps, Malys approached Robin and smoothly withdrew a key from the folds of his massive cloak. Robin knew what was coming next. The man would most likely taunt him and rub the capture in Robins face before offering the freedom for an unthinkable price. Robin gave him a smug glare that was ill-fitting a prisoner but Robin glared just the same. Malys froze for a minute, dark eyes flickering over Robin's face, then he casually reached forward and unlocked both shackles. This Robin was _not_ expecting. He tumbled onto his face. Then he curled up into a tight ball, riding out a wave of pain as his muscles shifted positions for the first time in days. But it felt surprisingly good to stretch again and he could already feel the initial pain receding into a manageable dull ache.

A small tin cup was set on the ground in front of him. Robin instinctively reached for it and grasped it with clumsy half-numb fingers. He brought it to his lips, spilling half of it, and practically inhaled the stale water inside. The cup was taken from him and, much to his surprise, refilled and, again, set on the ground in front of him. Robin was more cautious this time. Why would his enemy do this? What kind of poison was in the water? Did he really have much of a choice to refuse? How long could he live without it?

"Drink. If we had wanted you dead, you would be dead already," Malys cold flat voice told him.

The man had a point.

Tentatively, Robin reached for the cup again with slightly steadier movements. Again, the empty cup was taken but it was not refilled this time. Instead, Robin was left alone for a few precious moments, which he used to try and stretch his sore muscles out. Malys stood at the table, reading a manuscript and munching on a piece of bread -completely ignoring the outlaw in the corner. Robin wished he had strength enough to tackle Malys, take his food, and get out. But Robin could hardly sit up, much less stand, let alone tackle anyone. Besides which, Robin could see the corded muscle wrapped around the other man's neck and the large sure hands that seemed strong enough to be able to wield a broad sword yet nimble enough to perform surgery. Malys could snap Robin's neck with one hand right now if he wanted to. It was _not_ a comforting thought.

Malys suddenly turned to face Robin, with a small loaf of bread in his hand. "You do what I say and you get to eat. Simple enough. You defy me and you starve. And maybe I'll humiliate you." Malys spoke as if he were giving a mundane speech. "You're to be called Attrezzo."

So this was it then. They meant to deface his legacy. They meant to turn him into nothing. Robin was not about to let that happen. He eyed Malys with a vicious energy, belying the weariness that pulled on his body. Malys blinked. A ghost of a twitch of a smirk briefly lit across the corner of his lips. His eyes remained dead. Then the man kneeled down on one knee, getting close to Robin's form. He held the loaf close to Robin's face.

"What is your name?"

Robin knew this would hurt him. He figured he could last a week more without food in this pit. He had a week to figure out how to get out. A week for his gang to find him.

"Don't you know?" Robin said cheekily. "I am Robi—"

Malys punched him solidly in the nose, easily cracking the thin cartilage. Robin's head snapped back and a strangled moan emanated from his lips, which were red from the blood gushing out of his nose. Robin held a shaking hand to the wound as his vision dipped and swayed. Malys did not touch him again - did not shackle him to the wall. Simply gathered his things into the sack and walked back up the steps, the door clanging shut mere seconds later.

Robin let himself loose the battle then. He let himself slide into the soft forgiving darkness of unconsciousness.

* * *

TBC!...!


	4. Chapter 4

**UPDATE: This story has gone through a serious overhaul. Some chapters (like the first one) only needed some cosmetic changes to grammar and spelling and the like. Other chapters have had some hardcore corrective surgery. I'm still not completely satisfied but it's infinitely better than it was before. I can only hope my previous readers will agree.**

* * *

"What do you mean he isn't there?" Much shrieked.

"He isn't at the castle, I looked," Marian insisted.

"So where is he?" Will asked.

"I don't know! Sir Guy and the Sheriff are not there either. I've asked around and no one seems to know where they've gone."

"Or won't tell you," Djaq mumbled. No one said anything for several long moments.

"So…we need to find him before the Sheriff kill's him," Allan said simply. They all knew it but it was different somehow when he actually said the words.

"We should start searching the villages," Will suggested. "I mean…that's all we can do right? Search and ask around."

"Right…" Marian chewed her lip. "Split up, get to as many villages as you can."

The others nodded firmly and immediately started to move. Marian wanted to stop for a moment and shed some tears…freak out… But she couldn't. There was no time. If they wanted to have Robin back safe and sound, they needed to move and they needed to do it now. Something foul was in the works that could only end badly. It was simply a matter of the degree of agony they could prevent.

* * *

Vaizey leaned back in his chair and stroked the feathered breast of the falcon which was sitting stoically on its perch beside him. The mercenary lord was sitting at the other end of the table, casually tearing apart the roasted leg of a deer…or a pig maybe…possibly lamb.

"So?" the Sheriff asked gruffly. He knew he needed to tread carefully though, Malys was liable to snap at any time. If Vaizey wasn't as bold as he was, he'd be outright afraid of the man.

Malys dark eyes flicked up once then he went back to his meal. "So what?" The low voice clawed across the wooden table.

"When are you going to be finished with him?"

"Soon enough. If you're getting bored, you can go back to Nottingham. I don't need you here."

"But I want to see Hood humiliated!" Vaizey growled, pound in his fist on the table. Malys eyes stared at the fist for a few seconds.

"You will, when I bring him to you. Leave Sir Guy here if you wish. But I truly don't need either of you."

The Sheriff highly doubted the lord would betray him. He had no reason to. This type of thing was a hobby for the man. But Vaizey _really_ wanted to watch the entire process.

"I've already sent Gisborne back to Nottingham. _I_ will stay here and…watch you." He pried the fake tooth from his upper jaw and offered it to the falcon, which picked at the day old caked in meat.

"Very well," Malys said simply. "His name is Attrezzo now. You will not refer to him as Robin or Hood or Locksley or any combination thereof. Is this clear?"

"I suppose. But why?"

"You want him to become nothing, so we will take away all that defines him. You want him to feel defeated so we will force his defeat." Malys cracked the leg of meat in half at the joint to get to the meat near the bone there. "You said this outlaw has a gang?"

"Yes. Nearly as annoying as he is."

"They will no doubt start looking for him. Give these instructions to Gisborne. He is to follow this letter if they get too close," Malys instructed, tossing the Sheriff a small tightly rolled scroll. Vaizey put it in his pocket. "Part of Robin is in his gang. So we will destroy that as well."

"And this will destroy them?"

"It will destroy Robin Hood."

Vaizey forced the tooth back into his jaw with a wet crunch. "Excellent."

* * *

_What is your name?_

Robin stabbed spade into the hard packed earth with as much energy as he could muster. It wasn't much. Hardly any actually. Three days. It had been three long days since Robin had been tempted with food. Three days since the attempt had been made to change his name. The first day after that had happened, Malys simply tried again: giving him water and offering him food if Robin would say his new name. The second day, Malys declared that Robin would be doing work in the field, with the same deal as before. Robin worked the best that he could but he didn't get very far and had the bruises from the guards to prove it. The third day, today, it was raining. At first the water felt good on his skin as he broke up the hard soil. For the first thirty minutes at least. Then it became an irritation each time he moved his shackled arms and the small particles of dirt rubbed against his wet wrists. After an hour it became agony when the wind started to blow, chilling him to the bone. After three hours, Robin barely had enough strength in his arms to lift the spade.

He was panting. Hard. Trying not to inhale the rain that blew into his open mouth. He imagined the front of his shirt would be soaked in sweat had it not been soaked in rain water first. Robin pushed the spade into the soil, which was slowly turning into thick mud. He pushed hard, with his whole body. But then his feet slid back unexpectedly and Robin ended up first bruising his ribcage on the end of the spade before tumbling onto his side, now thoroughly covered in mud. Immediately, the guard, who was almost as miserable in the rain as he was, came tromping over, shouting over the storm.

Robin made a gallant effort to stand, planting his palms in the muddy, rocky ground. The heel of his left hand slid forward. The guard was on him. As Robin struggled to bring his knees under him, the guard landed a kick to his back. It wasn't a full bodied blow – it could almost be construed as an effort to help him stand. Then something else struck his back, something that was neither fist nor boot. Surprise ripped a cry from his lips as a whip snaked across his back, opening a furrow in his shirt and raising a thin welt down the length of his shoulders.

"Get up, Attrezzo." The gravely voice of Malys sounded low in his ear. Robin tried again but his arms slipped in the soggy soil and he did a spectacular face plant in the mud. The whip cracked again, slicing across his skin. Robin bit his grimy lower lip, his eyes pinched in pain.

"Would you like this to stop, Attrezzo?"

The whip crack blended with the boom of thunder.

"What is your name?"

Robin lay on the ground in agony. He felt cornered. Trapped.

Stop. Swallow the panic.

Robin steeled himself as the thunder rolled in the distance. He had, in a very short moment which felt like an eternity, an important realization. It was pride which kept him like this, in the mud with an empty belly and a bloody back. Just pride. Stubborn pride at that. What was he doing here? Not saying a name? It was almost childish, now that he thought about it. It wasn't as if he actually believed it – that this was his name. This wasn't worth it. It was a game that children played and he was no child.

"Attrezzo." Robin hardly realized the word had left his throat. He was horrified for a moment that it had seemingly slid out of its own accord. But no, this was right. He was just mimicking Malys like one would mimic a turkey call to lure the desirable into the open.

"What is your name?" Malys asked again.

"A-Attrezzo." It was harder this time. The word felt heavy on his tongue.

"What is your name?" Malys demanded yet again. A third time. He was not easily satisfied.

"Attrezzo!" Robin shouted.

Nothing followed. For a moment or two, he felt an insurmountable dread but then the moment passed and it was replaced by a sweet sense of relief. He was panting for breath still, lying on his stomach in the mud and pouring rain. Robin could hear Malys saying something to the guard – a whisper skirting across the sheets of water. A moment later, he was being hauled across the ground, down a flight of stairs and into a very familiar room. The guard roughly stripped Robin of his clothes and tossed him a dry blanket. Robin curled into it, suddenly feeling the cold like a kick in the gut. His back stung as the rough cloth rubbed against it but Robin didn't really care at this point. He just let his eye lids slide shut as the warmth tentatively crept back into his weary body. He felt like one giant throbbing blister on the floor.

The door opened to his prison and someone was walking down the steps. Robin didn't care to look. But he did pry his eyes open when something hot was set in front of him. The gray mash didn't look all that appetizing but it was _hot_. Robin quickly picked up the bowl and scooped the mash into his mouth with his fingers. It was sort of a bland cornmeal type of a thing with honey mixed in for flavor or to give him energy - Robin didn't care which. Something else was set in front of him, something equally warm, in a tall mug. Robin grabbed the mug and took a sip. Spiced cider – hot and filling. At least Malys kept his word. That was something.

Robin shoved the food into his mouth as fast as he could swallow. It hit his stomach none too gently but he didn't care at this point. It was food.

"You see Attrezzo? You do what I tell you and you get rewarded," Malys said casually. Robin glared daggers at the man standing calmly at the small wooden table.

"Tell me, what satisfaction do you gain from exploiting a man's natural weakness? His need for food and to not feel pain. Wouldn't it be more honorable to defeat his strength?" Robin asked, his voice dripping with venom. A cold fire sparked behind Malys dark eyes.

"And what makes you think I am seeking honor in your pain?"

"Because you are a monster," Robin spat.

"True. But you fail to realize the strength found in weakness. When a man is driven to his utter end, he discovers a strength born of desperation. This strength is greater than anything you could develop willfully. Destroy _that_ force and the rest will fall away," Malys offered simply. Robin grappled a moment with the words.

"So what do you hope to gain from forcing me to learn a new word? I know what your aim is and I can tell you know that it will not work." Robin forced all the resolve he had into his face and voice. Malys leaned in low. His words snaked past Robin's anger and prowled around his resolve.

"If it will not work, then why are you trying so hard to convince yourself of your own words?"

* * *

TBC!

A/N: I've finally decided on a timeline for the story! Its runs sometime in the middle of season-err _series _2 (you British people got some strange TV terms). This is mostly because I essentially refuse to acknowledge anything after a certain someone's death.


	5. Chapter 5

**UPDATE: This story has gone through a serious overhaul. Some chapters (like the first one) only needed some cosmetic changes to grammar and spelling and the like. Other chapters have had some hardcore corrective surgery. I'm still not completely satisfied but it's infinitely better than it was before. I can only hope my previous readers will agree.**

* * *

Will meandered along the lane, keeping his hood low around his face, hiding it in shadow which wasn't hard to do in the heavy rain. He wasn't in Sherwood. Far from it. Bingham actually. The young carpenter knew a man in Bingham who would know if something out of the norm had happened in the little village. Something like the Sheriff coming into town with an outlaw in tow.

He made his through the muddy, rain drenched streets. It had been raining on and off for three days now while they'd searched Nottingham up one side and down the other.

In the rain.

Will pulled his cloak tighter and slipped into the small excuse for a tavern. A fire burned in the hearth and candles flickered around the space, casting a warm glow on the rustic room. Will procured two drinks then made his way to the back corner and sat at the table next to the fireplace, spreading his cloak over the chair to let the heat from the flames dry it out. Small tendrils of steam lifted off the fabric. He crossed his arms and stared at the door.

It had been so hard these past few days. The thought of loosing Robin…it was horrible. Will couldn't help but wonder what would happen if Robin died. The man was a brother to Will. He was family. Even aside from that, their gang _needed _Robin. Their leader had insisted that they _all_ were Robin Hood but were they truly? Without Robin to lead them, would they continue? Little John tended to take charge when Robin left them alone but the big man was hardly the mastermind genius that Robin was. So would they continue to steal from the rich and give to the poor? Could they afford not to?

The door to the tavern burst open in a gust of wind as a bundled figure slid inside. The figure shoved the door shut and peeled away a heavy wool cloak, revealing a tall haggard man who had a look about the face which spoke of hardship. The man glanced around for a moment, caught sight of Will, and made his way over to him.

"Scarlet," the man said in greeting. Will nodded.

"Thomas." There was no need for more.

He slid a full mug of ale over to the newcomer. Thomas took a deep drink, drawing out the silence for a few moments. Will didn't press the man. After a brief minute, the now lighter ale mug thunked down onto the table.

"What is it you need to know?" Thomas asked. This wasn't the sort of topic that you skirted around with pleasantries. Straight to the heart of the matter – that's how it was done in situations such as these.

"Has the Sheriff or Gisborne been around lately? Or has anything strange happened? Involving the Sheriff?" Will asked cautiously.

"No. Why?"

Will inwardly cursed. He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair.

"What's wrong?" Thomas asked.

"Robin got 'imself caught. We don't know where 'e is," Will admitted. Thomas's eyebrows slowly climbed up.

"He's not at the castle?"

"No, that's the first place we searched."

Thomas nodded gravely then took a swig of his ale.

More silence.

"My prayers go with you all. I hope you find him."

And that was it. No more, no less. No offers of a helping hand or a village wide search party. With those awkward words, the man left Will alone by the fireplace to contemplate the nature of being an outlaw. The young carpenter sat and stared at the wall for several minutes, not touching his own mug - forgetting that it was even there. After what could have been hours or minutes, Will pushed himself up and started for the door. The rain had stopped but the road was still nothing but a mud pit. Will sighed and plunged forward, thoroughly _not_ anticipating the thought of trudging twelve miles back to camp in wet muddy boots. Rain was _not_ enjoyable when one lives in the forest.

But as he turned his nose towards home, Thomas's voice cut across the road.

"Scarlet! Will Scarlet!"

Will spun around in the mud to look back the way he'd come. Thomas was running towards him, huffing and puffing. "What's wrong?" Something dreadful had happened, if the other man's face was anything to go by.

"Come with me," Thomas commanded. He led Will to an ordinary looking stable with a typical awning coming off the side. Nothing surprising or alarming. And yet, dread was stirring in his stomach. Underneath the awning, pinned to the side of the barn, was sort of a bit of cloth. Will's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Take a closer look."

Will stepped up and studied the thing. The dark material was held to the old wooden wall with two arrows. The ends of each arrow were snapped almost completely off so they were hanging at a right angle to the arrow shaft. "I don't get it," he said simply, hoping the man would let him in on what was happening.

"Are those Robin's arrows?" Thomas asked. Sure enough, the brown and white striped fletching was identical to the feathers Robin used when he made his arrows. Will remembered the dozens of times he and Robin would sit and make arrows - Will working on the shafts while Robin prepared the fletching.

"So? Lots of people use turkey feathers," Will insisted. Actually, very few people around here bothered with finding turkey feathers when they had plenty of geese and ducks to use for fletching. But he didn't like to think about that. "What's with the cloth?" he asked.

"It's…I think it's the hood of a cloak," Thomas said quietly. Will still didn't get it.

"Ok…?"

"Pick it up," Thomas commanded him. Will walked stiffly up to the odd site. He held the material in his hands and pulled the arrows from it. The cloth was wet - soaking wet but that wasn't surprising considering the amount of water that the heavens had released upon them. It was certainly a hood, haphazardly cut away from a cloak or jacket or something. A flash of red caught his eye and Will suddenly looked closer at his hands. They were dripping with red that ran down his fingers and off his wrists. Something squeezed his chest like a vice.

The hood was soaked in blood.

It was also folded up into a sort of a pouch. Inside the pouch was a bird. A bird with no head. It only took Will a moment to figure out what bird it was.

It was a red breasted robin.

He practically ran the whole way back to the camp.

In trembling hands, he clutched a headless robin and a hood soaked in blood.

* * *

"Who are you Attrezzo?"

Robin looked up sharply. Malys had seemingly appeared out of nowhere to stand under the small tree that grew up in the middle of the field where Robin worked. He did that sometimes – appeared out of thin air. The field they were in was relatively small and completely surrounded by trees with no buildings in sight. Robin leaned on his rake and took a deep breath, mopping his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand.

"And what would you like me to do this time?" he asked sarcastically, squinting in the summer sun to see Malys clearly. "I can fold m'eyelids inside out, if y'like," he snarked.

"I want you to tell me who you are," Malys ordered in his no-nonsense voice. A falcon launched out from the shadow of the fields only tree, a little bell jingling as it powered its way into the hot sky.

"I am Attrezzo," Robin said dully. He turned back to his rake, suddenly wondering if this was the proper way to prepare a field for planting. It didn't seem right and, in the moment, he rather regretted the fact that his father had not been a farmer.

"I did not ask your name. I asked you who you are," Malys pressed.

Robin fixed him with a frustrated glare, his nose throbbing from the memory of the last time Robin tried to tell Malys who he _was_.

"Stop toying with me and tell me what you want, Malys."

"What makes you who you are Attrezzo?"

Robin sat defiantly in the dirt. "I am the rightful lord of Locksley. I am an outlaw. I am loyal to the king," he said irritably.

"No," Malys said. "You have been reborn during the storm. You are a mere babe. You are lording over nothing. I am the law and you are not outside of my grasp. As for the king, you've never met the man unless you've sworn loyalty to an imaginary king since the day before yesterday. In which case you had much more to worry about then you might have thought."

Robin rolled his eyes then leaned back in the dirt to stare at the circling falcon high up in the sky. "Do you even hear yourself…" he muttered. "So who am I?" he asked. Scorn was threaded through every syllable.

"You are clay in my hands. I will create you," Malys assured him.

Robin forced himself to laugh mirthlessly. "You think you are manipulating me but you are so wrong."

Malys strode out from the shelter of the tree and squatted down next to him, spoke low in his ear. "I _am_ manipulating you." The man stood sharply and signaled to the waiting guards at the edge of the field. The two burly men came and stood next to Robin. "Get up Attrezzo," Malys ordered. Robin hesitated a brief second then pushed himself upright. A guard unshackled one of his hands from the long chain that ran the length of the field.

"Take your clothes off," Malys ordered him.

"Excuse me?" Robin's eyes squinted in confusion.

Malys held his arm out to the falcon that swooped in with a small mouse in its talons. "Just take them off," Malys said with a hint of mockery in his voice. "We are going on a trip into town and I wish the people to see you for who you really are."

Robin glanced nervously at the imposing guards who stood ready to beat him into submission. He didn't say anything.

"It will be far less degrading if my men do it but it will be far more destructive. What are you willing to lose?" Malys threatened. Robin felt his stomach tie itself in knots. This was not going to be a pleasant trip. And he also decided that now would be the perfect time for his gang to rush in and save him. "What will it be Attrezzo?"

Robin said nothing - couldn't possibly say anything at this point. He slowly slipped off his shirt and did his best to look calm about it.


	6. Chapter 6

**UPDATE: This story has gone through a serious overhaul. Some chapters (like the first one) only needed some cosmetic changes to grammar and spelling and the like. Other chapters have had some hardcore corrective surgery. I'm still not completely satisfied but it's infinitely better than it was before. I can only hope my previous readers will agree.**

* * *

Arthur a Bland made his way through the packed streets, stopping every now and then to look at some trinket at one of the many stalls that were crammed in along each side of the road. It was market day and anyone who could walk seemed to have come here to buy or sell various wares. Old woman voraciously haggled over prices with distressed merchants; men clustered in the taverns, making deals with one another; children formed packs and tore through the streets like mad hooligans; tinkers wandered about with their wares on poles, shouting out prices. The air was alive with the various smells of dried herbs and flowers, freshly rotting meat, and smithy's smoke.

Arthur sidestepped a charging group of children and smiled. He missed the days when he could run about like a ruffian with a group of his mates. He found a tavern which was set up next to a permanent set of stocks that sat in the towns square. Arthur ordered a drink and had just sat down to enjoy it when a shrill trumpet blasted through the streets. A few curious people left the tavern but Arthur decided he had no business with the noblemen here. By the time he was halfway through his mug, most of the people had left and quite commotion had built up outside.

_Now_ he was curious. Arthur wasn't generally a curious man so when his curiosity was tweaked, he thought best to investigate what tweaked it.

Arthur shouldered his heavy pack and wormed his way into the crowd that had formed around the stocks. But try as he might, he was only _just_ able to see what was happening between the constantly moving gaps in the thickly packed crowd. He saw what he had assumed to see - a man in the stocks. The man's neck and wrists were encased in strong wood, holding him in place. The man was also without clothing. The crowd laughed and jeered, tossing old rotting produce at him, following the common behavior. A few rowdy boys threw rocks - one even threw a horseshoe. The criminal simply kept his head down and legs crossed in a futile attempt to cover himself. Scantily clad harlots had suddenly appeared, coming up to the man, laughing hysterically at him, whispering things into his ears that made his face flush bright red, tracing their fingers over his bare skin while he squirmed.

There was nothing particularly special about this man. The crowd didn't react with any particular degree of disdain or pity. He was probably drunk, or had been drunk recently which might explain the absence of pants. However, the presence of dark clad man changed the situation slightly. The new man wasn't just any ordinary dictator who had caught himself a drunkard in his larders. No, he was the Sheriff of Nottingham. Arthur almost missed the importance of this oddity. He certainly hated the Sheriff. Actually, Vaziey had been the main reason Arthur a Bland had left Nottingham. And it was strange to see the Sheriff here. Not only here, mind you, but seemingly enthralled by the man in the stocks. It was _that_ fact which tweaked Arthur's curiosity yet again.

Vaziey sat on the stone platform which held the stocks, eating an apple and having a conversation with the prisoner which Arthur could not hear. The Sheriff produced another apple and placed it on the stone in front of the captive's face, a cocky grin on his ugly face as he spat at the captive. The Sheriff suddenly grabbed a fistful of the prisoner's hair and jerked his head painfully upwards so the crowd could get a good look at his face, which was twisted in pain and embarrassment. Dry blood flaked off the side of his face. The Sheriff let go of the hair and brutally backhanded the captive with a barked laugh. The crowd laughed as well but by now, was starting to grow bored with the whole scene and moved off slowly to their mundane lives. The Sheriff disappeared into a waiting carriage.

Arthur didn't leave. He stared at the poor man, something tugging at the back of his mind, something important that he couldn't remember. He thought he might know this man, if only vaguely.

Guards materialized out of the crowd to stand imposingly close to the man, which was odd. Too odd. This whole thing was odd. And it kept nagging at Arthur, screaming to be understood. By now, most of the crowd was gone and the guards were glaring at Arthur so he beat a hasty retreat back to the tavern to finish his drink. After sitting for a while, musing over the situation, it finally came to him.

It was Robin Hood.

At the very least, he thought it was. Arthur had only seen the man twice and from a distance but if Arthur mentally peeled back the dried blood and pained expression, he could imagine that the faces matched. If it _was_ Robin Hood, that would explain why the Sheriff was so interested in him and it would explain why he was so cocky. The realization put Arthur back a bit as he contemplated the implications.

Truly, Arthur liked Robin Hood. He liked what he did. He liked that Hood constantly got in the Sheriffs way. And he was genuinely surprised that Robin was even still in this position. Surely he would have been rescued by now. But perhaps…perhaps that was why the Sheriff had dragged Robin here.

Arthur glanced out of the window and strained to see the scene. There were two guards in plain sight. Two more were hiding in the shadows. Malys was probably out there somewhere as well, which was enough incentive on its own to keep Arthur from attempting an outright rescue. Besides which, Arthur a Bland wasn't entirely sure he wanted to stick out his neck for a man he didn't even know. No, he wouldn't try anything foolish. But that didn't mean he wasn't willing to stop by Nottingham and tell someone what he had seen. Good deeds beget a moral man, at least in part. Arthur fancied himself a moral man. Thus, good deeds needed to be done.

He shouldered his pack and set off for the city gate.

* * *

Robin stared at the ground without actually seeing anything. He felt numb. For a while, he'd attempted a cavalier attitude but eventually, the humiliation won out and he simply brooded silently while the masses jeered. The embarrassment sat heavily on his mind. And that bothered him because he should be able to just bare it. All things considered, his life could be a lot worse at the moment. Or even non-existent. But still, Robin was actually grateful that none of his gang was around to see him like this.

"So, what are you Attrezzo?" the voice of death that was Malys sounded in his right ear, making Robin flinch. Indignation and angry embarrassment kept Robin's lips sealed shut. "Shall I bring the harlots back or are you going to answer?" Malys threatened.

Robin felt his entire body grow hot. "I don't know," he said lamely. It was an honest answer. He didn't know what to tell the man anymore.

"You really don't know do you?"

"An outlaw."

"Not quite. We've already established that fact already," Malys told him.

"Your slave."

"No, not even that I'm afraid."

_Of course not._ Robin closed his eyes wearily. "Who am I?" he asked quietly and not just to Malys. It was a question that all men had to answer for themselves. He was a hero. He was the champion of the poor. He was—

"Nothing. You are nothing." Malys came and sat on the stone next to Robin. "Did you notice how long the people gawked at you? Fifteen minutes. That's it. Criminals get more attention then that."

Robin tried to block out the low gravely words that spilled so easily out of Malys mouth. He tried to focus on anything _but_ Malys. He couldn't see much of anything except the stone platform. Couldn't pick out any specific sounds. He jerked his arm back sharply, eking out a stab of pain so he could concentrate on that. It still didn't work. Malys voice still wrenched its way through his eardrums and into his mind like a worm.

_There is a worm at the base of the tower and that is why it will not stand._

"The people don't know you Attrezzo. They don't care who you are or what happens to you. But they are still ready to mock you at the drop of a hat, though not even that for very long. I said earlier that I would create you and I have. I have made you into nothing. You've been reborn as a nothing but a dumb rock or a lump of clay, mindless and useless as anything other than a tool to be used and discarded. Insects have more worth." Malys voice was completely devoid of any passion and yet also was lacking any signs that this task of talking was mundane. He was as emotionless as if he were talking to brick. "Do you understand me Attrezzo?"

Robin was done trying to wait this out. He was done trying to preserve himself for rescue. "No," he muttered. The lying was too much. "You must know how ridiculous you sound," he pressed. "You cannot think to unmake a man. I have lived too much to be unmade in a week. I have seen horror and death. I have spilled the blood of strangers. I have tasted love and joy and happiness."

Malys said nothing but Robin could feel a change in the man - disappointment perhaps, or anticipation. Robin pushed just a bit further.

"I am Robin of Locksley," he said quickly, bracing for a blow. "I will not play this game any longer."

Malys was quiet and very still for several long moments before speaking. "The problem you have Attrezzo, is that you assume you've been playing a game with me. You assume that this is not what I've been steering you towards all along. Breaking the mind is a backwards business that is often misunderstood." The depth of sincerity in Malys' voice was unnerving. "The first step in re-teaching you is getting you to verbally confess, whether you believe it or not because at that point, there is a small portion of the mind that accepts it as truth. This is both irreversible and inevitable."

Robin clenched his jaws together. He wanted to laugh in the face of this man but Malys wound his words together so that they were slippery and complex. They were hard to follow and yet seemed incredibly simple at the same time. But he would _not_ fall into this trap.

"Even now you are refusing to believe. But when you get back to your home in the hole, you will think about it and you will begin you doubt yourself. You will begin to rethink things and you will seek to discover yourself. And all you will find is what I've created in you."

Robin found that he was shaking. He wanted nothing more right now then to send an arrow through Malys mouth to stop his talking. He mentally dug in his hooves. But in the back of his mind, Robin knew he was being manipulated. Every word out of Malys mouth was a manipulation. He was desperately trying to figure out how to do the opposite of what the man wanted. But what was to say that this wasn't what Malys wanted all along - to force him in a certain direction by making Robin run in the other way. What if Robin did exactly what Malys was telling him to do? Except that he'd tried that hadn't he? Tried and failed.

Robin finally came to a disturbing conclusion: he didn't know what to do. And he didn't know if he could figure it out before he snapped. This made him realize conclusion number two: he _would_ eventually snap and dissolve into a puddle of nothingness. And that was the most disturbing thing of all.


	7. Chapter 7

**UPDATE: This story has gone through a serious overhaul. Some chapters (like the first one) only needed some cosmetic changes to grammar and spelling and the like. Other chapters have had some hardcore corrective surgery. I'm still not completely satisfied but it's infinitely better than it was before. I can only hope my previous readers will agree.**

* * *

Djaq stared at the bundle in Will's hands. She blinked.

"What does it mean?" Much asked meekly. She knew immediately what it meant. And she suspected that the others did as well - including Much. But it was as if none wanted to actually admit what they thought they knew. No one would answer him. Djaq studied each of their faces in turn. John was stoic and his face twitched in anger. Allan was wide eyed, in disbelief. Much looked as though he was about to fall apart. Will was just plain horrified in the quite seething way of his. She unconsciously took a sidestep closer to him.

The bundle that Will found was not the only one. Someone in another village had found a similar package only this one just contained a pair robin's wings. Four were found all together. Two without heads, two with only wings.

"Does…does it mean he's…dead?" Allan asked awkwardly. Djaq found herself nodding. What else could it possibly mean?

"Unless…I dunno, maybe it's to keep us from looking for him," Will offered valiantly…hopeful. Or thoroughly refusing to accept the news. Was it a fool's hope?

"Burn it," John ordered. For a second no one moved. Then Djaq slowly took the hood and the bird carcass from Will's pale hands. She held it over the crackling campfire but suddenly hesitated. For some reason, it seemed wrong to just toss it away. And yet that was the only thing they could possibly do, right? What else was there to do? She almost felt as though she were throwing Robin himself…as if she were abandoning him to the flames.

"Djaq?" Will's strong quite voice gently nudged her mind. She nodded. It was just a bit of bloody cloth. _Not_ Robin himself. She dropped the little package of horror into the flames and took a step back. The smell of burning blood and cloth wisped through camp on the smoke that snaked from the fire. Eventually, the smell of burning feathers joined the other unpleasant aromas, adding to the sense of unease that permeated the camp.

"So what do we do now?" Allan asked. They all stared at him. Then they all stared at John.

"I don't know," the big man said gruffly. "I don't know."

* * *

_Robin of Locksley. I am Robin. Robin, Robin, Robin._

After the humiliating trip to town, Malys had Robin tossed down into his prison then shoved a handful of ill-fitting clothes in after him. Then Robin was left to his own musings. It was as black as pitch inside his cell. He couldn't hear anything from outside. There was no breeze coming in from the window.

Robin ran a hand through his hair, carefully avoiding a bruise that cupped the back of his skull. He breathed in slow through his nose and held the air in his lungs for a moment or two.

It sounded foolish when he thought about it – all the things that Malys was suggesting. The ideas were absurd. He talked of identity as if it were as simple as stick fighting. Anyone with a big enough stick could just have a go at it and dismantle another man with a few deft strokes. It wasn't nearly as easy as that. Was it?

He idly curled up tighter, pulling himself further into the corner of the room. No reason really…just habit. He winced as a fresh bruise brushed up against a bump in the wall. He had a lot of bruises: fresh and otherwise. It would take several weeks for them all to go away. That was assuming the bruising ceased anytime soon. The chances of that were poor but Robin quickly turned his thoughts from that idea.

He suddenly had a picture of Marian smiling proudly at him, her hand toying with his hair as she laughed. It carried him into a deep sleep.

When he opened his eyes again, Robin felt groggy. It was still utterly dark outside. Or rather, inside. He couldn't see anything – not a sliver a light or a faint glow from his pale skin. It was hot and stuffy. The heat eventually drilled him back into a fitful sleep.

When next he awoke, Robin had a sense that something was terribly wrong. But his brain felt fuzzy, like someone had stuffed it with cotton. It was still dark. Still hot. He sat up but no…He couldn't sit up. Robin blinked furiously as if he could blink away the darkness but nothing was happening. He tried to stand again and suddenly realized that he was bound up tight, from feet to chin – wrapped up like a corpse. He couldn't move.

It was unbearably hot.

Robin struggled a moment or two before he forced himself to lie still. It was a part of the game. Nothing more. Nothing to panic about.

Just lie still.

Sweat soaked his shirt.

A space of nothing stretched out for an eternity.

How did they bind him without his knowing?

He was free one moment and bound the next. There was something blurry in between but he wasn't exactly sure how it happened. He suddenly felt very disturbed and he unconsciously pulled and strained against whatever had wrapped him up so tightly. It was a futile effort.

What would happen when he died? Would Robin Hood continue to steal from the rich through the hands and fingers of his gang? He supposed it would. It was a comforting thought if only because Robin didn't have to worry about those people who depended on Robin for their livelihood. They'd be cared for regardless.

* * *

Robin snapped awake again. How long had it been? Had he even been sleeping? Nothing in his environment had changed. He was still wrapped up tight like a mummy. His head sort of felt detached from the rest of him and his tongue was dry. Dehydration. It was something he'd felt in the hot air of the Holy Lands.

Hunger rolled around in his stomach. It must have been at least a few hours since he'd been down here. Maybe a little more than that. The inability to see was getting to be more than an inconvenience.

Is this what it felt like to be dead?

* * *

_"Attrezzo_…_"_

Robin sucked in a sharp breath. "What do you want?" he snapped. His voice sounded too loud in here where the air was very very thick. Robin started to scoot away but realized he couldn't move. His breathing quickened. The thin tendrils of panic started to worm up his spine. He bucked against the bindings but barely managed to move an inch or two from where he was to begin with. He started to tremble a little.

No. He would not panic.

But he desperately needed to relieve himself. There was an angry ache in the general vicinity of his bladder.

"Hey!" he called out, his head lifting off the ground a few inches.

No one answered.

Robin laid his head back down and waited.

* * *

Robin strained to move. He was panting from the oppressive heat. He felt like he was blending into the darkness – that he was becoming one with the brick and the dirt and the hot stale air. There was no real distinction between them.

There was a new and disgustingly human stench that added itself to the air. His midsection was not as pained as it was before but he felt horrendous. Every whiff made him want to vomit. Which he did at some point. But he couldn't tell you when. The hunger was becoming a beast of its own, consuming his insides in its need for nourishment. But that was foolish because you couldn't starve to death in just a day.

Had it been only a day?

* * *

Robin did not feel human anymore. His voice was hoarse from calling out for food, water, anything. He was completely alone. Maybe they were done with them. Maybe they'd forgotten. Maybe the gang had killed Malys in a deadly battle but not before learning his location. Maybe he'd die here.

And just how easy was it to dismantle a man's identity? Could he really be so utterly destroyed in so short a time? Robin wondered what he was – what made him who he was. The war, surely. Being outlawed by the sheriff. Being a lord. His gang. Marion. Without those things, who was he? A man. Yes. A man with particular skill with a bow. A man who could kill and would kill if the lives of who he loved were in danger. He was a strong capable man – albeit, a little worse for wear at the moment.

But he had no bow. He had no way to kill.

Robin strained against his bonds and grunted when they did not give.

He could not see, could not stand, had no loved ones near to protect.

So who was he?

Deeper. He must go deeper.

He was Robin of Locksley but of what use was that here?

He was a man of moral character. He did no harm if it was not absolutely required to save someone else. But there was no one else that needed saving so then would he harm others to save himself? If it came down to it, Robin felt sure he would kill Malys. If given even half a chance, he would take it.

Again he strained to move and found himself shaking from the effort. A noise of anguish hissed into the thick unmoving air.

Was that selfish? That he wanted to kill for his own wellbeing? Perhaps it was. But he was justified in that. Above all else, he was justified in his hatred. Robin was sure of it.

_"Who are you, Attrezzo?"_

_I am a man of strength and good moral character._

_"You have no strength."_

_Not all strength is in the physical body._

_"Who are you?"_

_I am Robin Hood._

_"But that is a gang in a forest. You are alone. You are utterly alone."_

_Only for the moment._

_"Who are you?"_

_I am a champion of the oppressed._

_"Yet they mocked you."_

_They did not know who I was._

_"And who is that?"_

_A man who waits. _

_"What are you waiting for?"_

_My friends to come. Or for a key to drop from a pocket. Or for a man to turn his back long enough for me to attack._

_"What use is that?"_

_It is of every use._

_"Who is it that waits?"_

_Robin. Robin Hood._

* * *

His head was splitting in two. It must have been. It felt as though it were literally being split in half and the ax just kept coming down and coming down. He was quite sure there were bits of blood and brain splattered on the walls.

He couldn't breathe properly.

His whole body felt like it had been filled with lead.

His stomach was a sea of nausea.

Robin was dimly aware of someone lifting him up and moving him around. His eyes fluttered open and then slammed shut as light seared them. So much light. And air. The wind felt like razors across his skin. It felt like his body was exploding outward and he couldn't stop his limbs from moving.

_"Attrezzo, open your eyes."_

Robin frowned.

Something cool and wet dragged across his face and he sputtered.

_"Attrezzo…"_ The voice was soft and calm. A woman's voice.

That was not his name.

_ "Robin—"_

CRACK!

Something inside of him snapped in two and Robin screamed out his pain.

_"Robin—"_

Another crack but this was of a different sort. White hot. Hot hot hot! Hot and biting across his back and arms and chest. He gasped.

_"Attrezzo. Open your eyes."_

He dragged his eyes open. The light wasn't as powerful this time. It was softer. He was vaguely aware of the walls of his pit. Robin blinked. Frowned.

A hand crept into his vision and he started.

"Easy then, Attrezzo. Just me. Just little ol' me," said a kind voice.

He looked up at her. It was a plain looking woman with yellow hair and a common face. She smiled at him. He opened his mouth to speak and found the effort exhausting.

"Shh shh," the woman cooed, her hand pressing against his lips. The touch made him shiver. "You've been having a hard time, Attrezzo. Still got some fresh wounds that need healing. Been having some delusions and Lord Malys doesn't like that. But he's been helping you."

Robin's frown deepened. He felt as though he should be refuting but his head felt all stuffed and wobbly. Perplexity nit his eyebrows together.

"My name's Winnie. Here, take this." She held a cup. Cold water splashed against his lips. Robin was suddenly only concerned about the water in the cup. His body came alive as he curled his weak hands around the cup and sucked down the water. It hit his stomach like a kick in the guts but he couldn't stop drinking.

"Good Attrezzo. That's good. Take it easy now," she said softly.

Who the hell was this woman and where did she come from?

Was he dreaming?

"How long?" he sputtered. He found speaking to be a little unfamiliar and it confused him.

"How long since when, love?" the woman asked.

Robin stared at her. "Since…since town."

None of this made sense.

"Oh Attrezzo, that was days ago."

"Days?" His mouth very dry.

Winnie refilled his cup. "Drink some more, Attrezzo. You're very weak."

Suddenly, Robin stopped. He forced himself to push the cup away. "No…no my name…" He took a breath. "My name is Robin."

It was the one thing that kept ringing in his head like the sound a sword makes on a metal shield. In all the confusion, that was his one point of clarity.

Immediately, Winnie's face transformed. Gone was the sweet smile. Cold dread replaced the openness. Her face went white. Her eyes got big. Something sparked in them that made Robin freeze. He went very still. His heart thrashed in his chest. A deep and nameless feeling began to swallow him, reacting to Winnie's terror.

His mind went blank.

"Attrezzo, you should know by now how lying hurts you," came the thick dead voice of Malys.

Robin's hands started to shake. A seething anger curled around his vision but it was an anger made frantic by fear and made stupid by exhaustion.

He may have tried to take a swing at the man or maybe he just twitched in that general direction. Regardless, Malys had him by the neck and was throwing him across the room. Robin landed in a painful heap in the corner, suddenly realizing that his ribs were broken. He rolled onto his stomach and attempted to push himself up but his wrists seemed unable to support him. The arms didn't work. The muscles were too weak.

"Attrezzo—"

"STOP!" Robin screamed – it was a broken sound. "I know who I am!"

Malys stared at him, saying nothing.

Robin stared back, watching the room dip and sway. He wasn't sure exactly where he intended to go with his statement. Even now, the meaning and conviction behind it were slipping away from his grasp.

His head hurt so bad…

"You're bleeding, Attrezzo," Malys stated.

Robin blinked.

"What?"

"You're bleeding. I beat you. You screamed to me your name."

Robin blinked. He was having a hard time following what Malys was saying but it made him feel very cold. The whispers of recollection nibbled at his thoughts. _Psp psp psp…_

"Would you like to know what name you shouted?" Malys asked. "_Attrezzo."_

Robin's eyes flicked down. "Of course…" he muttered sarcastically. And yet, he wasn't sure he disbelieved it. There was a severe disconnect between the town visit and now. He wasn't really able to reassemble the memories between the two points of time. Darkness and fear and feelings of bondage.

Robin looked up and realized that there was a guard standing over him with a bag. The bag was shoved over his head before he could react and he was being manhandled up and out of the pit.

The walk, or rather drag, was long and tortuous, although anything seems long to the captive with a bag over his head and blood seeping out of his body. The sack was removed and Robin blinked rapidly in the bright sunlight before settling for a fixed squint. He found himself in a small arena, ringed in by a tall wooden fence. A platform reached up past the fence, on the outside of it, holding five kingly chairs.

For a moment, he couldn't even focus on what was in the arena. He was still trying to catch up with everything that had happened. Not everything was adding up the way it should and his mind was failing to work properly to fix that.

Vaizey sat in the center chair, looking smug. A couple of regal looking ladies sat on either side of him, sitting under a brightly colored awning. Malys sat on the platform itself, letting his legs dangle over the edge with his arms crossed firmly in front of his chest. Robin would have sneered at them and said something clever right about now except that right _now_ his vision twisted sharply to the right and he stumbled a bit as a wave of dizziness trickled down the side of his head. Dizziness was the excuse he wanted to go with and not the one that admitted to his not being able to think of anything clever.

Robin forced himself to stand still, eyes snapped shut. In a moment, the dizziness passed and he opened his eyes again. With heavy breathing, he surveyed the arena more closely. There were three large cloth covered _things_ sitting around the large circle in fairly equal intervals.

_My name is Robin Hood._

Through squinted eyelids and scrunched up brows, Robin stared at Malys expectantly. The man leveled a cold stare at him for the briefest of moments then turned rather nonchalantly and nodded at one of the attending guards in the arena.

"Attrezzo, you seem to have this delusional obsession with this outlaw. That man is dead and you are not him," Malys said, not shouting but his voice carried a gravelly strength that needed no extra volume despite their distance from each other. "So, I have devised a…situation that you are to participate in. This is to prove to you that you are not this outlaw," he explained calmly. Vaizey snickered.

_This is a game, Robin. Can you beat it?_

_Of course you can._

The guards proceeded to pull off the cloth covers with a good deal of pomp that Robin would have taunted and jeered at if he were feeling up to it. But he didn't feel up to it. He didn't feel up to anything at all. He glanced at Malys and missed the flicker of irritation that passed between his eyes.

But once the curtains were pulled away, his stomach dropped. Two massive contraptions were erected at opposite ends of the arena. Not just contraptions…gallows. And not just one…_two_. The whole set up was purely Vaizey inspired. A giant set of what looked like wooden scales was set up between the gallows. Two people were balanced on ether end of the massive scales, each under the tall beams that formed an all too familiar shape. Each of them had a rope stretched tight around their necks, ready to strangle them at the slightest shift of weight on the scales. He saw all of this in an instant. It only took another instant to take in the details of the people…the _children_. On his left was a tall but young girl with pretty blond hair and a tear stained face. On his right was Saracen boy who looked to be about eight years old. His cheeks bore the trace of tears as well.

Robin's heart sunk.

His mind went blank.

His head hurt.

The girl was crying.

"The outlaw would be able to set these poor children free Attrezzo. Can you?" Malys challenged.

"You might want to hurry _Attrezzo_, the children have been standing there all morning. I don't know how much longer their little legs can hold them," the Sheriff taunted.

Robin clenched his jaws together and glared one last time at them then turned his mind to the task at hand. It was not unlike getting a river to flow in the opposite direction. It was incredibly impossible.

Robin's eyes rolled around the arena, drinking in the details again and again. The children were positioned in such a way that if either one shifted too much, it would knock the other off balance and stretch the rope tight.

Three structures.

Three.

His eyes fixed on the third structure, and the objects that were set on it, opposite to where he stood - his bow and a single arrow. The curved sleek weapon beaconed to him, making his fingers twitch in anticipation and in remembrance.

_Yes yes yes._

_Robin Hood!_

His eyes rolled over the contraption for a moment, formulating a plan in his head already. Obviously, he couldn't try and cut the rope to save one only to have the other choke to death - which probably wouldn't take long due to the fact that the poor kids were _barely_ getting enough air as it was. Robin seriously doubted his ability to get the second child after the first was free… Although, it could work if he could…if he could—

Robin blinked. He had completely forgotten what he had been thinking about. _Mid thought._ He desperately grasped at the coattails of a plan but it ran away too quickly to catch.

_Panic_.

He looked at each of the children in turn and frowned, his breathing speeding up. He was going to…going to use the arrow to slice through one of the ropes. But that would make the other child's rope pull taunt, killing him. Him. Because the girl needed to be saved first. Except that was wrong because the girl wasn't any better than the boy just because she was English. But if someone needed to go first…

Robin realized he hadn't moved an inch for at least a couple of minutes, maybe more. The little boy's legs were quivering from the strain of standing for so long. He needed to move.

His legs felt like water.

"Can't decide which to save Rob— _Attrezzo?_" Vaizey teased. "I'll make it easy, just picture the boy as a Saracen solider."

"Shut up…" Robin muttered.

"Pretend," Vaizey continued, "that he's one of those who tried to kill the king. Does that spur on your anger enough to save the pretty little lady? Go ahead, picture the boy as one of those stinking desert rats."

"SHUT UP!" Robin roared. He was shaking from anger and exhaustion and blood loss and hunger and confusion. The Sheriff's talking made it impossible to think clearly.

Hell, being awake made it impossible to think clearly.

He couldn't possibly think of the boy in that way. It would be heartless…stupid. But then, could he let the little girl die? They both looked at him with wide fearful eyes, _begging _him to save them. And he should be able to save them! He _knew_ he should be able to do this. It should be so easy for him. The various options should flow into his mind, ready for the picking. But nothing came to him except the obvious and disastrous choices.

Robin finally shuffled forward on weak legs, towards the bow and arrow. He worked into a sloppy trot mid-way but it still took longer than he thought reasonable to get to the weapon.

"Are you sure it's wise to give him the means to kill you Lord Malys?" one of the ladies suddenly asked, sounding alarmed. Robin's eyes snapped up to stare at Malys. He hadn't thought of that. The other man just leveled him with that cool uncaring gaze, not saying anything. But the idea sent shivers of burning excitement into his limbs. Overwhelming desire crushed all his other thoughts.

Malys dead. Dead in his hands. His blood seeping out onto the dry and dusty ground.

_Stop_.

Why?

_Just stop_.

He couldn't be tempted. The children… the children might die anyways. What was to say they would get let off the hook just because he saved them from the noose? What was to say Malys wouldn't kill hundreds of children for the sake of his sick pleasure? If he killed Malys now…

No! These two kids needed him _now_. He would always have time to kill Malys later.

Sick anticipation settled into the back of his mind, satisfied for the time being.

As his mind worked hard on the problem, Robin wasn't paying attention to his surroundings as he reached for the familiar curved bow. By the time he registered the booby trap, it was far too late to pull his hand back. He didn't really know what kind of trap had been sprung only that several pieces of heavy wood and tightly wound rope were springing up towards his limb. Before he really realized what was happening, blinding pain was enveloping his right hand, searing up his arm and into his shoulder. Robin cried out in pain and sunk to his knees. The world went white around the edges and he felt breathless with agony. His stomach roiled.

_Stop stop stop!_

Robin forced himself to look at the injury, gritting his teeth, face screwed up tightly in agony. Hot breaths puffed out of his nose in an irregular rhythm. His hand was wrapped up in a mess of wood and rope and skin and sinew. His prized bow lay in splinters beside him, not even recognizable. There was a blinding second in which he yanked and pulled like a wild animal before wits came back and he just knelt there as calmly as he could. With his trembling left hand, Robin started to pull at the rope, trying to find some way of untangling his hand. Shuddering noises of agony tumbled from his lips. But after a few moments of near fainting, he gave up, bitter tears filling the corners of his eyes as he regarded the fingernail that dangled from his middle finger. Sticky wet hands of horror thrust themselves down his throat and tasted of bile.

"You see Attrezzo? You are nothing." Malys suddenly spoke next to him. Robin's nostrils flared in anger. _Robin_ would have been able to do this. _Robin _would have seen the trap.

Malys pulled a short leather strap and the wood fell away with the rope. Robin gingerly pulled his mangled limb to his chest, wrapping his good arm tightly around it; breath hissing in and out of clenched teeth. He choked back a mouthful of vomit.

But there was something dreadfully more important scraping at the back of his mind.

"ROBIN!" the little girl suddenly screamed. Robin snapped his head around, lurching towards the gallows, just in time to see the boy's legs give out. The rope snapped taunt. Robin had to turn away, his chest heaving. He could hear the sound of the boy struggling for breath. The sound of the girl doing the same soon followed. Little chokes and air-less gasps filled the otherwise empty arena. Tiny sounds. Almost not sound at all. And yet it was like cacophony of a thunderstorm.

Malys forcibly turned his head so Robin had to look again. The girl's bloated face was turning blue, her eyes taking on a reddish hue as veins popped. Her little bare feet kicked and twitched.

He closed his eyes.

_Robin_ would have been able to save them.

He found himself breathing in ragged breaths. Tears were streaming down his face. His body slumped. There was a hand on his shoulder.

"It was a hard lesson, Attrezzo. I'm sorry it had to be so."

The words barely registered.

"Come, Attrezzo, and let me wrap your wounds. I'm sure you must be hungry and thirsty."

He found himself nodding faintly but only because the words ended in such a way as to require a nod. Inside, he felt cold and numb as he retreated into some dark corner in his mind.


	8. Chapter 8

**UPDATE: This story has gone through a serious overhaul. Some chapters (like the first one) only needed some cosmetic changes to grammar and spelling and the like. Other chapters have had some hardcore corrective surgery. I'm still not completely satisfied but it's infinitely better than it was before. I can only hope my previous readers will agree.**

* * *

Arthur a Bland tugged his hood closer around his ears and adjusted his grip on his long battle worn pike. His eyes darted around, straining to search behind every bush and tree. The word was that the gang of outlaws were hidden in this forest but no one knew where. But everyone he talked to assured him that if he were to traverse the forest, an outlaw would make himself known. Arthur supposed that this was his only option as he strode into the forest three hours ago. And now he was seriously loosing his resolve to try and find these people. This whole affair really wasn't his business anyway. Not really. And he had other things to tend too besides tromping around in the woods looking for criminals. He would say a few prayers for Robin Hood next time he hit a church—

"Who are you and what do you want?" a man's voice suddenly hissed behind him. Arthur felt the thin blade of a sword against the back of his neck. He was truly impressed, he had no idea he was being followed.

"My name is Arthur A Bland. I come with news concerning Robin Hood," he spoke quickly. The pressure on the blade abated. Arthur glanced around and saw others who had materialized out of the forest. Three other men and a short Saracen woman. He slowly angled his body so he could face everyone there.

"Speak," the biggest man ordered, brandishing a heavy looking staff.

"I saw Robin Hood several days ago—"

"Where?" the man with the sword demanded frantically.

"Derby Shire."

The outlaws shared a troubled glance. Arthur continued. "He was being publicly disgraced in the stocks at the castle. The Sheriff of Nottingham was there, don't ask me why."

"Is he ok?" the younger looking man asked.

"Beaten. Starving. Pretty humiliated," Arthur responded. "I'd get to him sooner rather then later."

There was silence. The group of outlaws huddled together and shared a whispered conversation which Arthur couldn't really hear but he could tell that it was heated. A few suspicious glances were thrown his way. He just twiddled his thumbs and stood awkwardly next to a large oak tree.

Finally, the woman walked over to him. "How do we know this isn't a trap?" Arthur rolled his eyes. This was turning out to be much more trouble then it was worth.

"You don't. And I am not going to waste any more time trying to convince you that it's not. I've given you all the information on Robin Hood that I have, do with it what you will." Arthur turned to leave. He had done his good deed. And now he was finished. He wished them the best - he really did. But he wasn't about to get even more involved.

"Thank you," the woman said. There was such a great relief in her voice. Arthur smiled. It was a good idea that he came here.

"Your welcome."

* * *

He couldn't think. Could hardly see. His mind was full of nothing but burning pain. The fire had flared up but hadn't abated at all. Time had melded into one big agonizing lump. A lump that was useless to him. Voices were screaming at him. Lots of voices. He couldn't figure out which one to listen to. Each time he chose a voice, something horrible happened.

Malys had given him a roommate. Two. Two tiny corpses hanging on the wall. Dead eyes staring at him. Mocking him. Pleading with him. Admonishing him. Accusing him. Filling his nose with stink that made him vomit.

_Why! Why! Why!_

A rat had found its way into his hole. It was stretched up on its hind legs, trying to reach the rotting flesh on the walls. It made his stomach churn some more, emptying it of precious nutrients. It made his head ache, not that he could feel the ache anyway with all the other hurts. He couldn't turn his head left or right. To do so would mean seeing them. Straight ahead. He could only look straight ahead. And he mustn't let his mind wander because a wandering mind equaled wandering eyes which caught sight of unsightly things.

The pit was all consuming. He was just barely cognizant to realize he _was_ so bad off. It was a maddeningly depressing realization. Malys would _never_ let him go. His gang would _never _find him. It was hopeless.

He was nothing in so much as he could not function beyond his ability to feel pain. No light could possibly reach past so much darkness. He wasn't even in the same universe as the light anymore. There was only this place of madness and despair. Lunacy. Death. Where children were mangled and eaten. Where heroes did not exist because they simply could not be.

And he had been thrust here.

* * *

Vaizey smiled. He couldn't stop smiling from his place at the base of the stairs. Robin was at the other end of the small room, staring vacantly off into space. One look at the man and one could see that he was broken. There was no fire in his eyes, just a crazed sort of glazed over stare. He clenched a broken, bloodied hand to his chest. He never even acknowledged Vaizey's presence.

The Sheriff actually giggled. Here was his arch nemesis curled up in a prison, mumbling like an idiot. The man was broken and perfect. Dashed to pieces before him. Vaizey clapped his hands together and looked over a Malys who was standing next to him, leaned up against the wall, studying the bodies of the children on the wall with a mild interest.

"Well, la de da… He is…I am truly amazed," Vaizey finally said with a giant grin. Malys just nodded, not even looking in his direction. "Are you finished with him?" He couldn't imagine there being anything left to do.

"There is more I could do but, yes. You may use the gallows in the town square if you wish."

"Excellent." The Sheriff clapped his hands together. "I've already sent for Gisborne. We will kill him tomorrow." This was such an exciting event. He'd wanted to kill the man for so long! And now he would die. Dreams do come true. It was time for celebration!

* * *

"Marian." Guy's voice pulled at Marian's attention like a dead limb. She had been aiming for her room in the castle, looking forward to having the maids prepare a bath for her. She had been enthralled with the idea of dousing the days stink with warm soothing water. And then Gisborne had appeared in her doorway, waiting for her to return. The sight of his leather clad person sent shafts of dread into her belly. Marian almost felt bad for the adverse reaction to Guy, the man _did_ have his moments of decency. As such, she put on a polite smile.

"Sir Guy, what a surprise…"

He returned the smile with a tight morphed smile of his own. He pulled a bundle of cloth from behind his back and presented it to her. Marian hesitated, the stupid grin still fixed on her face, and then she took the bundle and shook it out, discovering that the bundle was in fact a dress. It was beautiful - it _always _was. Guy always had the best seamstresses making her dresses. And it was _always_ for a reason.

"It's lovely. What's it for?" she asked, not in the mood to play verbal games tonight. Gisborne fidgeted.

"The Sheriff is having a banquet tomorrow," he said awkwardly. The man really did need to learn how to talk to a woman.

"What are we celebrating?" Marian asked.

"The death of Robin Hood," Gisborne sneered. The air suddenly left her lungs as her head swam. "Well," Guy continued, "he's not quite dead yet. The Sheriff plans to fix that before the banquet."

Marian forced herself to blink…and breathe. Then smile. "You finally caught him?" she asked, not really needing to know. Her voice wavered and she prayed he was not paying close enough attention to notice.

"Yes. Anyway, he's to be executed tomorrow." Guy shifted nervously, like a young boy. "Would…would you allow me to escort you to the banquet? It's not in Nottingham, we have to travel a ways."

Marian wanted to slap him. Or drop kick him. But he was showing some faith in her and she _couldn't_ screw it up. If she did, Robin could pay for it. She couldn't, _wouldn't,_ do that to him.

"Where are we going?" she asked. Gisborne smirked.

"It's a surprise," he insisted. Marian hesitated. Then nodded.

"That would be wonderful then. What time shall I be ready?"

She knew that she said the words and she heard an answer but Marian was already scheming about how to get to the gang as fast as humanly possible.


	9. Chapter 9

**UPDATE: This story has gone through a serious overhaul. Some chapters (like the first one) only needed some cosmetic changes to grammar and spelling and the like. Other chapters have had some hardcore corrective surgery. I'm still not completely satisfied but it's infinitely better than it was before. I can only hope my previous readers will agree.**

* * *

There were banners and cheering villagers and lively music was playing. The air was full of celebration. Three small girls in bright dresses with long ribbons in their hair danced around the gallows in the castle courtyard. It was a chilling juxtaposition. The minstrels struck up a fast pace and a few young couples danced and laughed under the colorful tents.

Will tried to smile and appear joyful like the others here but he just couldn't. The trip to Derby took far longer then any of them had thought. Immediately after Arthur a Bland left, before they even left for Derby, they wasted hours trying to get into the castle to inform Marian of what had happened. She had seemingly disappeared. And they couldn't wait for her. So they struck out for Derby Shire at a fast pace. But however fast they went, without horses they were still slow. They didn't actually get to Derby until late last night. After that, it took hours of asking around to figure out _where_ in Derby Robin was being held. They had narrowed it down to two possible locations and then split up into two groups. Little John took Allan and Much to the location which seemed most likely. That left Will and Djaq to search the town here.

And what they had found, after the sun crept over the horizon, was a celebration being prepared. He asked around and discovered, with a horrible sinking feeling, that the lord of the manor had caught a dangerous outlaw and had declared a holiday to celebrate his death. It didn't take a genius to figure it out.

Further probing of the masses revealed next to nothing. No one knew where the outlaw was being kept or when he would swing from the gallows. But they _did_ know that the man would be heavily guarded, being a dangerous criminal and all. All this meant that Djaq and himself couldn't really do anything except watch the gallows and try to blend in.

He hated waiting like this. His hands fidgeted with anything that was within reach. The nervous energy needed to be expended. Djaq glanced sideways at him.

"Stop looking so nervous," she ordered.

"Sorry…" he muttered. "I just…I need to do something."

"You look like you shouldn't be here," she informed him.

"Sorry," he sighed. "Maybe we should dance? To look like we belong?"

She hesitated. Will opened his mouth to take back his statement when she nodded and took his hand to lead him to where the other people were dancing. Together, they awkwardly went through a few dance steps, trying desperately to appear happy. It wasn't working. Several frustrating minutes passed before Will had to stop.

"I can't do this," he mumbled then stomped off to the shade of some tree. He could hear Djaq chasing after him.

"Will…"

"I'm sorry, I just can't." He _needed_ to do something else. Something like saving Robin. Djaq put a comforting hand on his arm.

"I understand," she insisted.

"Should we go get the others or something?"

"We don't know when they will bring him out. It would be risky," she warned. But she didn't sound completely opposed to the idea.

"We might need some help," Will insisted. But Djaq shook her head.

"I do not think it would be wise."

Will knew it wasn't wise. But they were so _close_ to finding him. After all the searching, after all the worrying… he was _here_. And they couldn't do a thing about it. Not yet anyhow. There was no more searching to be done.

But they could plan.

"We need to figure out what to do when they bring him out," Will said firmly. A ghost of a smile flitted across Djaq's mouth. She nodded.

"Yes. Let us scheme."

But as they started to spew ideas, the villagers started to move. Not quickly, nor frantically but rather with an air of excitement. First a few started to run then the rest of the crowd followed, towards the gallows. Something was happening.

Will started trotting after the crowd. He didn't even have to look to know that Djaq was following.

They needed a plan and they needed it now.

* * *

Marian sat nervously on the dais, legs crossing and uncrossing, gaze constantly shifting. Her plans had all gone to pot. As soon as Gisborne had told her of their plans, Marian had _just_ managed to get on a horse and galloped out into the forest. But the gang was not there. At all. It had seemed as though they'd cleared out pretty fast, the fire had been left ablaze.

She'd had no choice but to return to the castle and figure out how to save Robin herself. The night had been restless, she could hardly sleep. Her mind traipsed over the various ways Robin might be suffering. Pictured the way his face probably looked when no one was watching him, in the dark dungeons. Her imagination had been playing on her heartstrings like the minstrels who plied their instruments at the other end of the courtyard.

"Lady Marian." Guy held out a goblet of wine to her. She took it with a small smile. It seemed as though that was all she did lately - force fake smiles onto her face.

"Thank you Sir Guy," she responded politely, taking a sip of the pungent drink. "When will the execution take place?" she asked, hoping to sound casual. Guy sat heavily in the chair beside her.

"Soon. The Sheriff wants to have some fun first." Guy actually sounded annoyed with it all. Marian felt a stab of dread worm into her gun.

"Fun?" she managed to ask. He nodded towards the gallows which were placed directly before the dais, on which sat the Sheriff, Guy, herself and a man named lord Malys whom she did not know.

For several hours, nothing had been happening, aside from the celebrating villagers. Marian figured that the people had no idea what they were celebrating. The poor people were simply enjoying the festivities.

But now, _now_ something was actually happening. And she didn't really want it to.

A tight nit group of soldiers slowly made their way to the gallows. At least twenty more soldiers formed a small ring around the whole structure, their pikes and spears making a formidable and effective wall around it. Marian didn't actually see Robin until he was up on the platform. Even then, she barely recognized him. His form was so hunched over, so ragged, dirty even, that he appeared to be neither lord nor outlaw. A thick beard was growing on his bruised and bloody face. He was barely walking, more like shuffling. He swayed dangerously when standing still. And he was close enough for her to smell the putrid stench that rolled off of him.

Marian felt tears spring into her eyes. This was much worse then she'd even imagined. He didn't even look around for a familiar face.

A noose was placed over his head and tightened around his neck. Marian mentally prepared herself for whatever little speech the Sheriff was sure to make. And she carefully pulled a small knife from the folds of her dress. She wasn't quite sure what she was going to do with it but she knew she had to do something.

Marian absentmindedly scanned the crowd that had gathered around the gallows. Scheming…trying to find a way…

She blinked. Djaq was worming through the crowd. Will was close on her heels.

Will and Djaq. Which meant that the gang was here.

Hope shot into her.

If the gang was here, then they surely had a plan. Robin was—

Robin was swinging.

Her heart stalled.

The trap door had dropped and Robin was swinging by his neck. The Sheriff was laughing. Robin seemed to come alive as he kicked and squirmed. A look of terror played across his face.

She couldn't breathe.

She felt her throat being squeezed…like his. The air wouldn't come.

She couldn't move.

He was dying. And it was written all over his face, along with the panic.

And then…and then the rope had been released. Robin's body dropped the fairly short distance to the ground amidst the roar of gruff laughter. Marian's hand flew to her mouth.

Fun. The Sheriff wanted to have some fun.

Marian wanted to slug him.

"Get him up!" Vaizey shouted. The guards dumped a few buckets of water over Robin, who had passed out at some point. They frog-marched him back up to the platform and wrapped the long end of the rope back around the horizontal beam and pulled tight. Robin visibly shook, his eyes screwed up tight. Marian wanted to hug him. Hold him. Tell him it was all going to be ok.

The trap door bottomed out again and _again_ Robin plugged down a few feet before coming to a sudden painful stop. More laughter. More slow agonizing minutes. And then the rope was released again and he dropped to the ground.

Marian closed her eyes for a few seconds, not quite sure she could handle this.

"Marian?" Guy was looking at her, concerned.

"I do not find this entertaining," she snapped, glaring at him.

"He's just a criminal."

"I still do not enjoy watching you torment him."

Gisborne hesitated. "It will be over soon."

She nodded. "Good," she forced herself to say. She scanned the crowd again for signs of the gang but only saw Will standing as close as possible to the gallows. He was staring back at her with a cold frantic gaze. Something was in the works. Thank God.

_Thunk_.

The trap door dropped again. The process of torture continued. Nearly dying. Always choking. Marian really didn't know how much Robin could physically take. It was like nearly drowning a man over and over for information. It was cruel. But then, she supposed that was the point.

The horrendous sound of rope creaking and Robin struggling for breath filled her ears. But then something else filled her ears. Something that sounded like thunder. And whinnying. Scarce seconds later, a herd of horses came barreling through the castle court yard. The shifting, fumbling, living blob of equine flesh came snorting and stamping through the screaming running crowd. It seemed, and was very likely, that the entire contents of the castle stable had been emptied. Most of the horses were fully tacked. At the back of the pack came a short wild woman on a massive black warhorse, waving and cracking a long bullwhip and screaming out long strings of words in Saracen. The scene would almost have been comical except that Robin was still swinging helplessly by the neck. Marian was instantly on her feet, craning her neck to try and see past the thundering four legged bodies. Will could not be seen. Robin could not wait for him. Marian didn't hesitate to fling her small dagger with as much accuracy and force as she could muster. The blade managed to halfway sever the rope before becoming embedded in the wood. It wasn't much but it was enough. The remainder of the undamaged fibers snapped under the pressure of their living load and Robin dropped once again to the ground below.

By now the stampeding herd had vanished into the surrounding village. People were still running frantically. Gisborne and the Sheriff were shouting at each other. Lord Malys was staring at her with cold hard eyes. Marian held her breath. If he had seen what she had done…

"Guards. After the horse thief," Malys commanded in a loud but even voice. He was still staring at her. He _had_ to know something was up. "Sir Guy, perhaps you should accompany my men."

Guy glared at him, jaw quivering. But it wasn't like he could refuse - this was Lord Malys manor, not the Sheriffs. Finally, he nodded, climbed off the dais, and ran off after the large group of soldiers who were quickly disappearing into the distance.

"Where is he!" the Sheriff suddenly shrieked. Marian snapped her head around. The area around the gallows was empty. Of _everyone_. The Sheriff was _livid_. His face was turning purple. "You allowed him to escape!" Vaizey turned his anger towards Malys.

"I have done my job Sheriff. It was your task to actually kill him," the man said calmly. "I am finished with the outlaw."

Vaizey sputtered and fumed but there was nothing left to be said.

Robin was gone.

Robin was _free_.

A/N: No. This is _not_ the end. I dun broke him…I gotta put him back together again.


	10. Chapter 10

******UPDATE: This story has gone through a serious overhaul. Some chapters (like the first one) only needed some cosmetic changes to grammar and spelling and the like. Other chapters have had some hardcore corrective surgery. I'm still not completely satisfied but it's infinitely better than it was before. I can only hope my previous readers will agree.**

* * *

He wanted it to stop!

He felt like a small bird after it had been caught by the cat. Wings broken, fluttering in the corner while the feline batted at him with massive paws and cruel claws. Taunting him with the promise of death, of release. Then promptly refusing that release.

He could feel his body shutting down. The rope biting painfully into his neck, squeezing his throat, cutting off the air. And then he was falling to the ground. Lungs worked frantically to spread the fresh intake of oxygen to his starved body. Then it happened again. His body sending icy tendrils of panic to his brain as it sensed its immanent demise.

Fear.

So much fear.

And then air.

He felt like a child's toy, being yanked back and forth, up and down. Mixing the extreme emotions associated with death and life. Life then death then back again. Irrational euphoria then overwhelming terror then surprise then horror then cold dread.

Too much! It was too much!

He was falling again and he barely registered the platform rushing past his him before the pain of it exploded against the side of his head, effectively leaving him senseless to the world just as the thunder of a storm reached into his ears.

* * *

Will hefted the weight of Robin's body across his shoulders. It wasn't weighty enough, he realized. Robin should be _much_ heavier. In fact, the only thing that convinced Will that Robin was still alive was the constant, if slight, expansion of Robin's chest against his neck.

Truth be told, Will Scarlet was scared. And not for himself _or_ for Djaq.

He didn't want to carry Robin far, just far enough to get out of site from prying eyes. And so he navigated the tightly packed houses and shacks, hoping to find a horse that Djaq _didn't_ use for her distraction. Their plan hadn't been completely thought out but it wasn't like they'd had the luxury of time.

Will pulled up sharply and backtracked a few steps to peer into the small stable. An ox and a cart would do just fine. He felt bad for taking it but he left four gold coins for the owner, enough to by five oxen and as many carts. Will carefully placed his unconscious leader into the back of the cart. He hesitated for a second then quickly pulled out a dagger to slice through the ropes which bound Robin's hands together. Then he piled on a load of hay, harnessed the ox, and led it out into the open.

Will forced himself to relax as he climbed into the driver's seat. "Get on," he commanded. With a grunt from the ox, the cart started forward. It was a slow ambling pace. Will was sure he could have out-walked the slow creature. But it eluded suspicion. Who would go chasing after a slow easy going farmer when they were looking for a wild Saracen woman on horseback?

Will smirked at the thought of Djaq on the black stallion. She'd looked like a wildcat. The smirk faded. She'd only looked so feral because she was desperate. They _all_ were. They'd all been pushed to the extreme to find the man who held them together. And it appeared as though that man had not only been pushed to the same extreme but had been shoved over the brink of it into an unending pit of darkness. Will had seen the look on Robin's face as tortured him. It was a look of pure desperation. Of terror. Like the face of a man who'd looked into hell. And it was so unlike Robin, the man who Will called a brother, the man who literally laughed in the face of his own death so many times. But this wasn't death. This was hell. His brother had looked into darkest of darks and bore the hurts from it.

Will smacked the goad stick against the broad back in front of him, urging the ox on to greater speed. The creature bellowed angrily but picked up its pace none the less. The village rolled by with hardly a glance from the ambling persons walking by. Twice, a group of soldiers jogged past him. Both times he bit his lip and prayed that no one would stop him. And both times, the soldiers ignored him completely. Eventually, the village melted into the distance and he drove his ox into the gently rolling farmland. Fields of golden wheat waved in the wind like the waves of the sea.

Will was aiming for the clump of trees in the distance. It wasn't a forest per say but it was a big enough clump of trees to hide in. And it happened to be the place where they planned to meet up with the others. He only hoped that they weren't wasting time trying to find Robin in the other town.

The road slowly rolled by. Too slowly for his own liking. But he couldn't go faster unless he wanted to risk detection and he couldn't just stop because he didn't want to risk treating Robin's wounds out in the open like this. Being in the open made him jittery which was probably why he liked living in Sherwood so much - under the cover of trees and rocks. He felt safe there which is why he breathed a sigh of relief when the cart finally pulled into the leafy canopy though he still didn't stop until he came next to a small stream that ran through the middle of the woods.

Will jumped off the cart and started throwing off the hay. Robin was in the same position as he'd left him in. He didn't see the point of moving him so Will settled for shoving a wad of hay under his head for a makeshift pillow. As he leaned in close, he caught another whiff of the debilitating scent that clung to Robin like mud. Will coughed and thrust his head up into the open air.

"Will?" Much's voice carried across the small clearing. The manservant, John, and Allan were already running towards him. Will didn't say anything. He felt drained.

"Oh God!" Much exclaimed as he peered into the cart. It wasn't a curse, it was a desperate prayer. "Oh God no!"

Allan however _did_ mutter a curse under his breath. Several of them. In rapid succession.

"What happened?" Much demanded.

"I don't want to talk about it," Will insisted. He rubbed his face.

"Oh ok, yes! Because that doesn't make me want to know all the more what happened!" Much shrieked.

"You don't want to know…"

"Why? Because it was bad? Of course it was! Now I really need to know."

"Later Much. Not now," John snapped. The manservant paced a few steps, clearly in distress. Will didn't blame him.

"Where's Djaq?" Allan suddenly asked. They were all avoiding tending to Robin as if it were too awkward to touch him.

"She's distracting the guards. She should be back anytime now."

Allan nodded.

The snap of a twig sent them all whirling around. Marian stood wide-eyed at the edge of the clearing.

"How did you find us?" Allan asked. He seemed to be the only one fully functioning at the moment.

"I figured it out…does it matter?" she muttered as she ran to the wagon. "Robin!" Her hand flew to her mouth. Tears already started to fall down her face. She climbed into the cart, hands reaching for Robin's. "Get some water!" she shrieked. John was the first to move, using a small tin cup to scoop up some water from the stream. Marian took the water, dipping her fingers in it and running them across his lips. "Come on Robin…wake up," she commanded. The fingers moved to the side of his face, rubbing gently, coaxing the man from the darkness. For several minutes, nothing happened. But then Robin's eyelids began to flutter. A smile ghosted across her lips. "Robin…"

The injured man gazed around. Confusion lit up his face. Then horror. He squirmed, eyes rolling around in his head as he drank in his surroundings with a deeply wild light in his eyes.

"Robin calm down…it's me. It's Marian, you're safe. Shh, it's ok. It's over." Marian stroked his greasy, filthy hair and spoke so softly, so quietly, Will could barely hear what she was saying. Robin just looked at her, his eyes wide with a myriad of emotions playing across his face. His hand rose up slightly. Will bit his lip. The hand was a mangled mess of skin and blood, all curled up and shaking. Robin's eyes flicked to the hand. Tears welled up. Will felt his face grow hot. It didn't feel right being here, seeing his leader at such a low, humiliating, raw position. But morbid fascination and pity kept him rooted to the spot as the tears spilled down Robin's face and he wept.


	11. Chapter 11

**********UPDATE: This story has gone through a serious overhaul. Some chapters (like the first one) only needed some cosmetic changes to grammar and spelling and the like. Other chapters have had some hardcore corrective surgery. I'm still not completely satisfied but it's infinitely better than it was before. I can only hope my previous readers will agree.**

* * *

Allan paced in the back room of the tavern, chewing on a twig, arms crossed firmly in front of his chest. It felt as though they'd been dragged through the pit of hell over the past five days. Or rather, they'd witnessed as Robin was being dragged through which was just as bad. No matter how deep his cup of ale was, the screams still echoed in his ears. Screams from Robin's nightmares. Fevered screams as they re-broke his hand in order for it to heal properly. Choked half-sobbed screams of desperation from Marian as she watched her lover retreat further into himself.

Marian.

He cursed. She was the reason he was here right now, waiting for Gisborne. The man was nearly frantic with worry. The gang, and Marian, hadn't really thought about repercussions from her staying with them for so long. And so he was here, attempting to repair some damage. To do what he could to help the whole situation. It was the least he could do and he owed it to both Robin _and_ Marian. And the gang.

"What do you want?" Guy demanded as he burst through the door.

"I have information about Marian," Allan said hastily. Instantly, Gisborne's demeanor changed.

"Go on."

"She's…she's been kidnapped."

"By whom?"

"We don't know. But we're trying to figure it out."

"Then how do you know she's been kidnapped?"

"Some villager told us," Allan offered lamely.

Gisborne growled and ran his hands through his hair. "That's it? Some villager told you?" he snapped.

"Look, I'm sorry but that's all I got. It's not like we're preoccupied with finding a silly girl with Robin gone." He added the last bit to throw off any suspicion.

"Robin Hood…" Guy muttered. "You mean you haven't found him yet?"

"No. I'm assuming _you_ have him," Allan snapped. The conversation suddenly got very awkward.

"…No. We don't have him," Guy insisted, leaving no room for argument. Not that Allan would have argued anyway.

"Right. Well then, good luck to both of us, yeah?" he offered lightly. Guy glared at him before turning sharply, slamming the door behind him. Allan rubbed his face. This was getting harder and harder by the minute. Maybe it was time to give the ale another go…

* * *

"…and we gave old widow Matilda some food and tax money last week."

He blinked. Suddenly realizing that someone was talking to him. Or rather _not_ talking to him. The rhythmic droning had stopped. Much. Much's droning had stopped. Much was here. Which meant that…that either Malys had captured him too…or that he'd been rescued. But no one was coming to rescue him right? Since when did that change?

Oh yes.

That changed a while ago. Maybe even days ago. Perhaps weeks? Time wasn't exactly high on his list of reasonable comprehensions. Normal human functioning in general wasn't high on the list.

But he could eat.

And he could breathe.

And he could scream.

And he could watch the corpses as they spoke to him. Sometimes he spoke back.

"Robin!"

He flinched, expecting a spurt of pain.

But there was nothing.

Was Much talking to him? The man was looking intently at him. He assumed that meant he was talking to him. But why wasn't he calling him Attrezzo—

Oh. Yes. Robin. He was Robin.

He _was_ Robin. Wasn't he? The name made his skin crawl.

"Robin?"

He was supposed to respond. Much had a resigned look on his face, like this happened often. Did it? Yes. Yes it did. They were always looking for him to respond. Perhaps he should. But what would he say? Talking only seemed to get him into trouble. But Much so wanted to hear something from him. A question never really got him into trouble. He could ask a question. What could he ask?

"Why…" he started. His voice cracked. It had been a while since he'd actually talked. Much was staring at him now. Wide eyed. "Why am I still alive?" he asked. It was a sincere question. He really wanted to know. He should be dead and he felt quite dead at times. But he wasn't and now there was horror on Much's face. He had said the wrong thing. Again. His face flushed. His muscles tensed. No more droning. No more talking. There was uncomfortable silence. He averted his eyes. The small Saracen boy was staring at him with a dead gaze. It sent a cold dread through his body but he couldn't turn away. He could never turn away.

_Well done, Attrezzo…_

"I didn't mean too."

Pain. He hissed.

"Sorry." It was a woman's voice. Djaq's voice. She was at his side. Much was gone. She was dabbing at his wounds with a warm damp cloth. Not hurting him. Not on purpose. She was healing him. Or trying to. She was being kind. And not demanding anything in return. And she smiled. A sweet smile. Friendly. But he daren't tell her his name or then her hair turned yellow and the trees turned to blocks of stone. Then Djaq became Winnie and Winnie became Malys and Malys became everything.

Maybe she would answer his question. Maybe she would tell him why he wasn't dead, like he should have been.

"Why am I alive?" he asked tentatively. Djaq was horrified too. He felt terrible. He'd asked a terrible question.

But…but she softened. Sympathy. That's what was on her face now.

"Because the world needs Robin Hood."

He blinked again, his breathing thickening as he watched for Malys to appear. Djaq patted his shoulder and moved off, leaving him alone.

Alone. Not in pain.

It was a trick…

"Forget the world," Much said from across the shelter. "_I_ need Robin Hood."

Much was angry. Angry at him? Probably. He was terrible. Here comes the pain. It was hiding but now it would come out.

"We all do," came a wonderful woman's voice. Not Djaq. Marian. Beautiful Marian. She was always smiling at him. Always by his side. She was at his side now. Holding his hand.

Still no pain.

"How are you feeling?" she asked. There were tears in her eyes. Old tears. She'd been crying. Because of him? She always asked him how he felt. He never answered her. He always felt horrible. If he ever felt good ever again, maybe he would tell her. She didn't wait for an answer. Out of habit. He didn't blame her.

Her hand had moved to his forehead, pushing his hair out of his eyes. It was soothing. So soothing. He felt so weak. And tired. He felt safe with her near. He knew he could sleep without fear of repercussion if she was next to him. Even the corpses couldn't touch him though their fingers stretched far over her body to get to him.

She was humming now. It was sweet rare music to his ears. He let his eyelids close. Sleep overcame him and he didn't struggle against it.


	12. Chapter 12

**********UPDATE: This story has gone through a serious overhaul. Some chapters (like the first one) only needed some cosmetic changes to grammar and spelling and the like. Other chapters have had some hardcore corrective surgery. I'm still not completely satisfied but it's infinitely better than it was before. I can only hope my previous readers will agree.**

* * *

Much watched as Robin toyed with a gold coin, turning it over and over in his undamaged hand. There was a subtle glint to his eye, like a child who had just discovered a new plaything.

Two weeks. Two horrible long weeks had passed. Robin had made progress, if you could call it that. His wounds were healing. The long ugly whip lashes were shrinking into not-so-long snakes of pink that crisscrossed his skin. One particularly bad lash draped unevenly across his face and made them all secretly wince but that too was shrinking. Good hot food insured the reappearance of weight on Robin's frame. They'd washed his hair and trimmed the beard as best they could with him flinching away from the knife. Plus, the bones in his hand were healing, according to Djaq. Truthfully, it looked nearly as bad as it did two weeks ago to Much but then again, what did he know?

What really bothered Much was that Robin was still…_lost_. The man was…not the man that Much knew. Robin rarely talked and only asked timid questions when he _did_ talk. Or he talked to himself, muttering things under his breath while he glared into thin air. At least the nightmares were getting better. When he did wake up, it wasn't screaming bloody murder anymore. Much and Marian had gotten into the habit of sleeping on either side of him so that when he _did_ have a nightmare and woke up in a panic, they were there to calm him and keep him grounded.

Grounded.

If you could call it that.

One look in his eyes and you could tell he was far away from any sort of metaphorical ground.

He answered to his name again. That was one of the things that scared Much the most at first. The name had sent him trembling when he was feverish and half dead those first few nights. He probably would have tried to hide from them if he'd had the strength. As it was, they just watched him as he watched them from across the flickering camp fire – mistrust and fear glossing over his eyes.

But that was only the first week.

The second week, Robin relaxed in the way that an injured man relaxes when he's found a safe haven. He was still pretty frantic but he didn't fight them and he didn't flinch away from his own name. It was probably an animalistic trust more than anything else that kept him so complacent.

To say that Much was disturbed was an understatement. But he pulled himself together when he was around Robin and kept the conversation light. He told Robin about what was happening out of habit, hoping that the man would somehow pick up the pieces and start giving them direction again. At the very least, Much wanted Robin to _talk_ to them again.

But Robin never really did. He just gazed at Much like a beaten puppy.

A poor lost beaten puppy.

Sometimes a whimpering puppy.

And today, Much realized something: he wasn't looking at Robin anymore. The man they knew wasn't there. The progress they'd seen was not the sort of a man coming back into himself but rather the sort of progress you see when a baby is learning to crawl. It's new and fresh. He wasn't remembering, he was learning.

Much walked out into the forest aways. He caught sight of Marian who was sitting on a log, staring out into the trees. He sat down next to her.

"We need to do something," he insisted. "That's not Robin back at camp." He looked at her, not sure how to explain himself.

"I know," she said, nodding. "He's turned himself off."

"So how do we turn him back on?"

There was a space of silence.

"I don't know what to do Much," she admitted. There were tears in her voice.

"Me neither."

Silence again.

Somewhere off in the forest, a bird chirped, oblivious to the great fog of agony that billowed around them. Marian sniffed. Much awkwardly put a comforting arm around her shoulder and she melted into him, unable to hold back the tears any longer. Her body shook against his. Much patted her shoulder and made soothing noises, trying to hold back unmanly tears of his own.

This was not the first time they'd cried together.

"Maybe we should try letting him be normal?" he asked when the crying had trickled out to a whimper. "Like take him along on drops and stuff. Nothing dangerous or anything. Like, I dunno, maybe it would help him remember who he was?"

Marian nodded against his shoulder. "It's worth a try," she admitted.

"Right. Great." Much shrugged her away and stood. "I'll take Robin and we'll go with Will when he makes the next drop."

Marian looked positively pathetic as she gazed up at him. Much had _never_ seen her so vulnerable before. It made him nervous.

"Do you know who he talks to?" Marion asked.

Much hesitated. He didn't like to think about that – about Robin having muttered conversations with himself. "No. He hasn't told you?"

"No." She took a shuddering breath and pushed the hair away from her head.

"He _will_ get better," he insisted. She nodded silently.

* * *

Robin looked up sharply. Where they talking to him?

"Robin? You want to come with us?" Much was asking him. There was look of such sincere hope on his face. He didn't want to ruin that. He always did. So he nodded. He would 'come with them'. To do what, he couldn't form the proper thought process to even wonder but he understood the 'come' part.

Much gave him a hand up. Robin almost jerked back from the contact. He didn't like physical contact. Unless it was Marian. But Much was no Marian. He could stand Djaq's touch too. She didn't _try_ to hurt him. But she always did which was odd because he didn't resent her for it.

Robin suddenly realized that he was moving in-between Much and Will. They walked along a well worn animal path. Much and Will and Robin and the little dead blond girl traipsing through the trees. He kept having to avert his gaze to keep from seeing her red swollen eyes and blue lips and bloated face. She was singing to him in a voice that sounded sour and broken.

_For want of a nail the shoe was lost.  
For want of a shoe the horse was lost._

"Stop it…"he muttered.

_For want of a horse the rider was lost.  
For want of a rider the battle was lost.  
For want of a battle the kingdom was lost._

"Please!"

_And all for the want of a horseshoe nail…_

Will had stopped walking. He looked at Robin and Robin looked back at him, his face flushing.

"You want me to stop?" Will asked.

Robin swallowed. He shook his head.

Will offered a polite smile and then kept walking.

Robin fiddled with the edge of the bandage that covered his hand and tried to stop trembling. The boy was laughing at him but a crow had pecked out one of his eyes and the face was streaked with blood.

Robin swallowed.

Eventually, they came to a clearing in the forest and stopped there. A small group of people walked towards them with relieved smiles on their faces. They came up to him, clasped his hand, clapped him on the back, expressed their relief at his 'safe' return. He felt claustrophobic. It was all too much. Too many people. He wanted to yell at them, make them go away. In fact, he tried to back up but there were people behind him, blocking his way out. He couldn't breathe!

"Robin, why don't you go sit down over there?" Will suggested, pointing to a large oak surrounded by rolling bulging roots. The younger man stepped to one side and made a hole. Robin's head jerked up and down and he nearly ran through the opening. The soft words of concerned curiosity floated after him but he didn't really hear them. He sat on the highest protruding root and leaned back against the tree trunk.

He realized, suddenly, that he was panting. Panic thrashed in his chest. Robin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He held it as long as he could and then slowly let it out. His eyes opened and drifted up to the leafy canopy. The random pattern in green was soothing in a way. The leaves would never match up. They overlapped and left gaps and didn't fit together. They never would. They weren't designed to.

And that, in some way, was peaceful.

Maybe he didn't have to fit together exactly the way he used to.

"'Scuse me." There was a tug at his shirt. Robin glanced down at the small girl with braided red hair. Her green eyes searched his and she smiled, revealing an absence of the two front teeth. He frowned. What did the little girl want? Robin looked around frantically, discovering the others at the other end of the clearing, engaged in conversation.

Another tug at his shirt. "'Scuse me! You're on my seat!" the girl insisted, her tongue sticking out of the hole in her teeth, making her lisp. Robin stared at her for a full three seconds. Was she serious? What…why was she over here? "Mister, you're on my seat!" She poked him in the ribs. He flinched out of habit. Her eyebrows scrunched up. "Don't you talk?"

Robin nodded.

"Can you get off my seat?" she asked. She hugged a small cloth dolly to her chest. He nodded again and slipped off the root onto a shorter one. The redhead hefted her dolly and climbed up onto the spot he vacated, wiggling against the tree trunk to get comfortable. "Took you forever…" she muttered to him.

"…sorry," he muttered back. She started humming to herself and running grubby fingers through the yarn hair of her dolly.

"My name's Sarah, what's your name?" she suddenly asked.

"Attrez— Robin," he stuttered. He shifted uncomfortably. This subject line made him nervous.

"Attrezrobin? That's a funny name," Little Sarah said.

"Just Robin," he clarified. She gasped and looked at him, wide-eyed.

"Like Robin Hood?" she peeped. He was taken aback. But he was…wasn't he? How did this little girl know who he was?

Robin nodded.

"You go on all the 'ventures and beat up the Sheriff and everything?" Sarah pressed. Certain memories started coming to mind. The child's words started dredging up pictures and thoughts up out of the black quagmire that was his soul. But the memories were foreign and hazy as if he were remembering a half mumbled story from an old and nearly forgotten acquaintance.

"…yes," he whispered. It was suddenly hard to speak past the lump in his throat.

"Can you tell me a story?" Sarah asked. Robin blinked. Froze.

"No," he said sharply. Sarah studied him for a moment.

"Is there something wrong with you?"

Yes. Absolutely yes. He was all wrong. Nothing was right. But he couldn't tell the little girl. He wasn't sure he could tell anyone. He wasn't sure anyone would understand. He wasn't sure _he_ understood himself.

Robin just nodded. Sarah nodded back.

"I thought so. You don't look so good. Mama says I'm smart enough to figger out if peoples are sick or not. If they are _really_ sick, she says I have ta stay away. But you don't look really sick. So I don't have to go away," she explained. Robin found her speech oddly comforting. Sarah continued to prattle. "If you don't feel good, you should find some soup to eat. Mama says that soup always makes you feel better if you're sick. We don't always have soup but when I'm sick, Mama always gets soup to eat. She says…" Sarah suddenly smiled. "She says Robin Hood comes to bring soup!" The realization dawned on her. "Now you can bring yourself some soup and feel better!" She wiggled again, pleased with her own reasoning. "'Cause if you don't feel better, who will bring soup to make everyone else feel better?"

Robin shrugged. Sarah shrugged too. There were a few seconds of silence. Then Sarah held out her doll to him. "Wanna play?"

"No," Robin managed. Sarah crossed her arms and pouted.

"You won't tell me a story and you won't play…what good are you?"

Yes, what good was he? He really _was_ rather useless. It was disconcerting. He was suddenly very sure that he didn't want to be useless.

He wanted to bring people soup.


	13. Chapter 13

**********UPDATE: This story has gone through a serious overhaul. Some chapters (like the first one) only needed some cosmetic changes to grammar and spelling and the like. Other chapters have had some hardcore corrective surgery. I'm still not completely satisfied but it's infinitely better than it was before. I can only hope my previous readers will agree.**

* * *

Nighttime wrapped protectively around the outlaws' camp. The air was clear and crisp with foretastes of cold winter weather. A fire crackled merrily as the gang sat around it, nibbling on the remnants of the evening meal and sharing stories from the day's antics. Robin was nestled in the sleeping alcove to one end of the shelter, watching them with drowsy eyes.

"And then he turns to her and says 'what are you talking about?'" The group erupted in laughter. Marian even found _herself_ giggling in response to the tale. It felt good to laugh again. For once, she didn't feel stifled by worry or fear.

Her eyes drifted to Robin again. He was wrapped up tight in a heavy bear pelt to shield him from the cold. He still got cold _so_ easily, like there still wasn't enough fat on his bones to keep them warm. Djaq said that it was normal, given the gravity of the wounds and the time that had passed. Marian had no choice but to believe her.

And he _was_ healing. Physically at least. And there seemed to be a bit of a mental change in the past few days. She couldn't quite put her finger on it but something had shifted deep down inside him. Or maybe something had gotten brave enough to come out of hiding. Little things were changing. He took her hand in his own instead of waiting for her to take his. He didn't hesitate as much to ask for things like food.

She blinked.

He…he was smiling. Robin was smiling! His was gazing at the flickering flames, buried to his neck in blankets and he was smiling. It wasn't a bit toothy grin, really just a small smirk, but in that moment he looked like his old self again.

Marian elbowed Much and silently pointed at Robin. The others saw the small action and followed her outstretched finger. The talking ceased.

* * *

It took him a while to realize that they were staring at him.

It made him nervous.

Here he was, letting himself float in a pleasantly warm cloud of contentment, and now they were staring at him. Had he done something wrong? No. There was a glint of joy in Marian's eyes. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd seen that. The sight made him glad. But they were still staring.

"What?" he asked. The question slipped out before Robin even had a chance to consider the repercussions. Now Marian was smiling.

"Nothing," she insisted. The others turned away. Nothing more was said to him. The conversation bubbled up again. But he wanted an answer!

"What did I do?" he asked again. They were all looking at him again, surprised.

"You were smiling," Marian informed him.

"Oh." He felt his cheeks flush. It sounded foolish the way she said it. Robin dropped his gaze again. Life continued to go on around him. That's all it seemed to do now. He just sat on the banks while life flowed and swirled before him, not waiting for him to become brave enough to enter the swift current. He didn't even have time to blink before events moved on without him. Again.

And he so wanted to join it again. But there was a stubborn mental block that kept getting in the way and left him feeling like a blind stupid child. It was frustrating! It was a wall between him and what he needed to be. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this if only he could move past the barrier, he would be ok again. But it seemed as though every time he started to go near it, he couldn't move because of the fear that gripped him. The fear triggered things in his mind and threatened to shut him down completely. The closer he got to the block, the nearer the children sat to him, their decay rolling off them in smelly waves. So he avoided it. He was becoming good at that. And slowly, he found new bits and pieces to add to this thing that he was becoming. With careful attendance, he avoided the old parts of him that were blocked off anyway. In place of those things, he began to build something else. He liked these people around him so he kept them close to his being. He liked the sunshine. He liked to hum. He liked to recite nursery rhymes.

But, then again, he didn't like those very much.

This new thing was Robin – just Robin. It wasn't anything else. It didn't have a past. It barely had a name. But this was him.

* * *

**_Several weeks later…_**

Much hunkered down behind the bush, signaling behind him and hearing the soft rush of quiet feet against the ground as the others joined him. A few men on horseback trotted several feet in front of him, leading several pairs of lowing, bellowing oxen - the Sheriff's most recent purchase. From what they knew, the oxen were to pull wagons laden with something that the Sheriff was trading with some other fief. A bond would be formed, alliances made. They couldn't very well stand by and let that happen. Added bonus, the oxen would feed the villages for the whole of winter.

However important this little mission was, the real reason Much was so anxious about it was because of Robin. This was his first real chance to get back into the game. They were all worried. His master had seemed to improve, opening up more and actually joining conversations. His wounded hand was nearly healed and the weight was filling out his form again. It was wonderful!

But then Marian had to leave. They'd all come to the conclusion that she really couldn't wait much longer. She was already going to be in a heap of trouble anyway and the more time that passed, the worse off she would be. They'd helped her put together a seemingly plausible story which went along the lines of her visiting her cousin without telling Gisborne and there being an illness and quarantine and yadda yadda yadda. The story didn't really matter. What mattered was Marian's absence. It seemed to throw Robin off. Like he couldn't come to grips with what was happening.

Much felt awful. Here was his master, finally getting his legs steady again and they go and pull the rug out from under him. So they were trying the same trick again, doing something normal. Granted, this was a bit more extreme then dropping off food in the middle of the forest but desperate times called for desperate matters. It wasn't like they were going to make him do anything dangerous.

They told him to stay back in the trees and gave him a sword, which he awkwardly accepted with tightly sealed lips and a stern face. Then they were off. The men with the cows were coming along and the outlaws were ready to take them.

Truth be told, this was actually the first time since Robin's disappearance that they'd attempted a real full blown ambush. It took them hours of planning just to figure out who would take point. Good little sheep they were - sheep without the shepherd.

"'Ello there!" Allan, the one who was the most confident in the group strode up to the man-on-horseback who was at the forefront. The man looked around in alarm, hand reaching for the sword hilt.

"No no no…none of that," Much yelled, making himself known with a bow and an arrow on the string.

"We're here to relieve you of your cattle. Don't give us a fuss and you'll be fine," Allan explained. That was the cue for Little John, Djaq, and Will. They emerged, surrounding the travelers. The mans lip curled up in a snarl. The other mans hand flashed and in an instant, a long whip appeared. It cracked through the air and snapped around Allan's wrist, jerking the sword free of his grip. The first man wheeled his horse around and bolted through the tight nit group of oxen, dropping the leads and scattering the massive mammals. The second man followed.

It was a fairly small stampede, all things considered. But it made him panic, none the less.

"Allan!" was the first thing out of his mouth. The other man had squatted down, hunched over his arm, body tense.

"I'll be fine…" he insisted in a tight pain filled voice.

"Will!" It was Djaq shrieking this time. Much's eyes snapped further down the road to where the young carpenter was lying, with Djaq kneeling next to him. John was already running for them.

This was bad. This was _really_ bad. Really really _bad_!

"Is he ok?" Much demanded. He skidded to a stop in the dirt road next to the others. But at a glance, the situation wasn't as bad as he had feared. Will was already trying to sit up, much to the chagrin of the Saracen holding him down. The young man's eyes were wide in pain and shock.

"I'm fine. Really. One of the cows ran me over, that's it."

"Oh, that's it!" Much shrieked. "A massive animal runs you over and you're fine?"

"It just knocked the wind out of me, that's it," he insisted. Djaq pressed on his chest and he winced and flopped back onto the ground. Much rolled his eyes and rocked back onto his heels.

This was such a complete and total disaster. It was like trying to fly and falling flat in the mud instead. If Robin had the presence of mind…but no. That wasn't fair. But it was a glaring reminder of much they were lost as gang. It was like Robin was just a microcosm of what had happened to them as a whole.

_Robin…_

Much glanced around frantically, searching the spot where he expected the man to be. Where the man was obviously _not_.

"Robin?" Much yelled into the trees. Not that he expected Robin to answer, something in his gut said that it wouldn't happen. But now the others were looking around with an even deeper concern on their faces. "Oh no…" he muttered. "No no no…"

He was gone.


	14. Chapter 14

**********UPDATE: This story has gone through a serious overhaul. Some chapters (like the first one) only needed some cosmetic changes to grammar and spelling and the like. Other chapters have had some hardcore corrective surgery. I'm still not completely satisfied but it's infinitely better than it was before. I can only hope my previous readers will agree.**

* * *

Robin couldn't breathe.

A vice had clamped across his chest, squeezing tighter and tighter.

He stumbled along in the forest, over roots and branches and rocks, not really looking nor caring where he was going. He just…he had to leave. He didn't want the others to see him like this. At least, not now. Not when he actually knew how truly pathetic he was.

The whip cracked again and again in his head.

Robin could exactly pinpoint what it was but something made his hands tremble and his chest heave with panicked breath. Movement was necessary. Running. Running must be done.

Fear. That was it. Pure fear. Natural fear. Ancient fear. It was like a fear that a child gets when he thinks he sees a monster in the shadows. Only this was much worse because this monster couldn't even be glanced at. Only feared.

And so he ran.

Robin didn't know how long he ran. Didn't care. Couldn't see where he was going because of the bitter tears that welled up in his eyes and blurred his vision. His body was acting on instinct alone.

But the blind sprint soon took its toll when Robin's foot twisted around a large stone and sent him sprawling down a short embankment.

Robin didn't care. He just lay in the dirt, panting and cursing. This was not dissimilar to a feeling that he'd had in his pit, when he was a prisoner. The only thing that had really changed was that now he had the presence of mind to understand what it was that was happening – if only a little. And somehow, that _knowing_ made it worse. It compounded the issue. He'd rather be out of his wits. Animalistic. Fearing without comprehending. Waking didn't mean you didn't feel the pain anymore. Waking just meant you knew what it was you were feeling.

Quite suddenly, as he lay there, a long wet tongue slathered his face.

"Jacob! Jacob, let him be!" an old gruff voice called out. Robin sputtered and batted at his slobbering attacker. A fuzzy muzzle suddenly poked around his face, in place of the tongue. A sharp bark sounded in his ear, making him flinch. "Jacob, get on wit ye!" The furry lump was suddenly yanked away and Robin scurried backwards until his back was against a tree, nearly hyperventilating, eyes wide in panic.

"It's ok son, it's ok." An old man kneeled down in front of him, holding back a massive black dog. "…Robin? Young Robin of Locksley?" The man smiled. Robin frowned. He _knew_ this man.

"Gilbert?" he whispered.

"Good grief boy, what's wrong?" The old man had a concerned gaze on his face. Robin couldn't answer. He could only stare. And shake.

Gilbert Whitehand, a man whom Robin had not seen in ages. A man who Robin considered a second father. An old crusader who had taken to the forest after his use had dwindled away into old age. His tutor, his mentor. The memories of Gilbert were fresh and clear, unlike his more recent memories. These had not been touched by malice or scorn of his imprisonment. It was like they had been so far back that the poison of Malys had not touched them. It was like he'd found a crack in the wall in his mind and nothing came out to hurt him from that crack when he looked into it.

"What happened, Robin?" Gilbert asked. His voice took on a certain tone that struck a cord deep within Robin's mind. A voice from the past, correcting his mistakes, admonishing his mishaps.

"I don't know…" Robin mumbled. He _didn't_ know. Though maybe that wasn't entirely accurate. He knew a lot but yet he knew very little. And what he did know was woefully disjointed. Gilbert's face softened.

"Come with me boy, we'll get you cleaned up and get some hot food in ye." He pulled Robin up by his arm then reached around and took hold of the big black dog, Jacob, draping two bundles of sticks across the dogs broad back. Then the old man took Robin's elbow and led him forward.

It was a severe and utter turn-around from where he'd been just moments before. Robin almost felt giddy with it. It felt like he'd suddenly remembered what sunlight was.

For a long while, they just walked, Gilbert prattling on and Robin just listening. The old man gave up trying to get any answers from him and settled for telling stories and making small talk. The long forgotten voice was soothing to listen too. Before he realized it, his muscles started to relax - almost too much when weariness began to tug at him. But Robin plunged on, not willing to let go of that last bit of pride that he felt he still had. The time stretched out into what seemed like hours but eventually, a small shack appeared in the trees.

"Here we are," Gilbert announced. The shack was nothing impressive, a one room deal with a small bed at one end, a fireplace at the other, and a table in the middle with various odds and ends strewn about the place. Gilbert sat Robin down on the bed then went and busied himself with starting a fire. Robin studied the room. His eyes landed on a long piece of wood in the corner. It was sanded down and starting to be shaped. He knew the beginnings of that shape.

"Take it," Gilbert told him. Robin's eyes snapped up to see the other man staring at him intently. "Why don't you work on it for me?"

Robin didn't know if he wanted to. He was almost afraid to. Like it was something sacred that someone at his level couldn't possibly be allowed touch. Gilbert solved the issue for him by shoving the wood into his hands with a knowing smirk picking up the corner of his mouth. Robin couldn't take his eyes off of it. He ran his fingers along the length. Yew. He knew it by sight - by feel. It was another memory that hadn't been tainted. Another flash of sunlight. This was what you used to make a proper longbow. And…and it was out of his hands. Robin blinked. Gilbert had moved the wood from his hands to the floor and replaced it with a steaming bowl of porridge. A blanket was draped across his shoulders.

"Now…" Gilbert pulled a stool around and faced him. "Why don't you tell me what happened?" His tone left no room for refusal. And yet, Robin didn't really mind. He wanted to bare his soul to this man. But he wasn't sure he could bring himself to actually speak. He couldn't even _think_ about it, let alone talk about it.

"I…I can't," he said forlornly. It wasn't that he didn't want to, he just _couldn't_ do it. Gilbert fixed him with a hard gaze that made him fidget. Robin felt tears welling up again. Pathetic, foolish, childish tears. He felt like a child and he knew that he shouldn't. And that was frustrating.

Robin closed his eyes. Weariness grabbed at his body like a hungry animal. The floods of emotion were dwindling down, leaving him empty again. Empty and exhausted.

"Sleep boy, it looks like you need it," Gilbert told him, taking the forgotten bowl of food away. There was a deep concern in his voice, more so then before. Robin just nodded dumbly and slowly lay back, curling further into the blanket. He cracked his eyes open to see Gilbert looking down on him like his father used to do. But then his eyes drifted to the dark corner of the shack where a boy stood.

A Saracen boy.

With dead eyes.

_Little Robin Red breast sat upon a tree,  
Up went pussy cat and down went he;  
Down came pussy, and away Robin ran…_

* * *

Gilbert sat back on his stool, watching the slumbering Robin. Robin Hood, if his memory served correctly. The man who'd been a soldier turned heroic outlaw. He felt torn between two sensations: a deep joy at seeing the young man again, like a father finding his long lost son, and an equally deep disturbance at Robin's behavior. The man was broken, that much was blatantly clear. He was a shell of the man whom Gilbert had trained. His confidence was shattered, his resolve shot. The poor man was frightened of a dog!

Gilbert ran a few fingers through his thinning gray hair. Jacob's furry black head found its way onto his lap and Gilbert rubbed it absentmindedly.

This was a puzzle, to be sure. A horrible morbid puzzle. But this wasn't the first time he'd seen something like this. Years in the Holy Lands had taught him a thing or two. There were times when Gilbert would find soldiers after a bad battle who wouldn't come out of their tents for the fear that gripped them. He'd seen men who'd been captured only to return stark raving mad because of what they'd experienced. Men reduced to mere instinctive animals.

Robin's breathing evened out, deepened. The lad had finally escaped into the deep peace of sleep.

"Well Jacob, I think I need to get to the bottom of this," he told the dog. Jacob just looked at him with those big brown eyes. "You stay here and keep watch over the lad," he commanded, not actually expecting the dog to fully understand anything other than the word 'stay'. But that was enough anyway. Gilbert planted his hands on his knees and pushed himself off the stool. His old bones creaked their protest at the movement but he ignored it, slinging a quiver over his shoulder and grabbing his longbow, which doubled as a walking stick.

He had some outlaws to find.

* * *

Why did this keep happening?

Much angrily tore his hat from his head and twisted it up in his hands. He felt Djaq's comforting hand on his shoulder but he ignored it. They _had_ to find Robin! They just…had to!

Will and John were walking towards them. "Anything?" Much asked anxiously. John shook his head. Much cursed.

"Hey guys!" Allan came bounding into view. "One of the traps went off!"

Without another word, the gang chased after him. It could have been nothing but then again, it could have been a delusional Robin stumbling around. Much quickly made his way to the forefront of the small pack of outlaws running through the trees. Mere minutes had gone by, minutes that felt like ages, before they burst into the small clearing and skidded to a shaky halt.

A tall old man stood by one of the booby trapped trees, staring at the counter weight to the trap and poking it with a long stick, a perplexed look on the wizened face.

"Oi!" Allan yelled. Instantly, the long stick turned into a bow, with an arrow on the string. The old man handled the weapon with a skill and speed that belied his appearance. Allan started forward and suddenly an arrow was between his feet.

"Stay where you are, ya ruffian." The man commanded. If the situation had been different, Much would have laughed at Allan's red hued face. As it was, the old man's accuracy was simply amazing. They all gapped at him.

"Gilbert? Gilbert Whitehand?" Much suddenly asked in disbelief. A smile ghosted across his face. Only one man was as good as (if not better than) Robin with a bow and arrow.

"Young Much, is that you?" The old man was grinning from ear to ear. Much ran down and grasped the man's hand, clapping him on the back.

"Where have you been all this time?" Much asked. Granted, it was really a dumb question but it was the first thing that came to his mind.

"Same place as always," Gilbert insisted. Much just shook his head in disbelief.

"Who's this?" Djaq asked, coming up beside him and politely shaking Gilbert's hand.

"Gilbert Whitehand, an old dear friend," Much explained. "Me and Robin used to go up to his shack all the time when we were kids."

"I taught those boys a lot," Gilbert injected.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Djaq insisted.

"So," Gilbert clapped his hands, "you're Robin's band of thieves?"

"Yeah…well…minus Robin," Much admitted awkwardly. To his surprise, Gilbert only nodded knowingly.

"Yes. I found him." Gilbert took on a stern fatherly gaze that made Much fidget nervously.

"Is he ok?" Will asked, full of concern.

"No. He is very much _not_ ok," Gilbert insisted. "But he's safe at the moment. And I think you need to tell me what has been happening with our friend."

Much nodded. He trusted this man completely. And it was a great relief to have someone this close to Robin, and with this much knowledge and wisdom, in the mix. He felt like he was handing off the torch, so to speak, to someone who might be able to actually _help_ Robin.

"Would you care to join us for dinner?"

* * *

**A/N:** A little side note, Gilbert Whitehand and Arthur A Bland are both part of the original Robin Hood tales and poems. I've taken a few liberties with them as the characters are fairly unknown but I've tried to keep to the original character. Gilbert Whitehand has a few different incarnations and I've taken the latest one for this story; the one in which he was an old soldier who'd originally taught Robin how to use a bow… not that ya'll actually care…I just thought you'd might be interested… shutting up now.


	15. Chapter 15

**********UPDATE: This story has gone through a serious overhaul. Some chapters (like the first one) only needed some cosmetic changes to grammar and spelling and the like. Other chapters have had some hardcore corrective surgery. I'm still not completely satisfied but it's infinitely better than it was before. I can only hope my previous readers will agree.**

* * *

The days passed in a warm haze for Robin. He spent his time simply talking with Gilbert. Nothing horribly heavily or obtrusive was ever discussed, just light easy subjects. They dug into the clear and easy memories from his childhood. Robin relished the sudden remembrance of himself.

And Gilbert had a way of talking to him like he wasn't damaged. Robin loved his gang and all but they always seemed afraid to say the wrong thing around him. It made him feel like a child. But he and Gilbert talked like two old mates as they sat around the fire. As the days passed, the topics of conversation got gradually more serious and in-depth. What did you do in the war? Tell me about the king. How did you and Much survive that sand storm? Tell me what Marian was wearing when you saw her again for the first time since coming home.

Robin felt like Gilbert was slowly coaxing him from the protective shell his mind had created. It was a surreal experience. He felt like he was on the outside, observing the old man put some pieces back together to make something that resembled a hero again.

Sometimes they hit a sour memory – ones that sent him shaking and muttering. Sometimes the children started screaming at him from those sorts of memories. They shoved their hands down his throat.

But Gilbert kept him from backsliding. He kept him safe when those memories threatened to overwhelm him. It was like having solid rock under his feet to keep him from drowning in the endless ocean of horror. It was like having someone to pull him away from the wall when he found a crack that was not safe to look through.

And in that time, Robin worked steadily at the longbow, using tender care to craft it into a sleek weapon. It was usually in his hands whenever he was awake. The wood was shaped and now he was using some dried animal sinew to make the string, working the sinew into a thin rope which he would eventually stretch between the tips of the limb of the bow. It felt gloriously wonderful to be so immersed in something that was so familiar - something that wouldn't betray him - something that he had somehow forgotten all about and was just realizing again for the first time in a _long_ time.

Robin glanced out the window absentmindedly. The sun was starting to set. Gilbert would be returning soon. The old man went for long walks in the forest everyday. Today was the first day that Robin didn't go with him. It was the first day he felt he could actually decline the stroll. Truthfully, he was scared that Gilbert would insist he come along. But the old man just smiled and nodded, not pressing the matter, stating that Robin was well enough to choose for himself. So Robin had spent the afternoon alone, in the quiet with the corpses. He'd almost come to grips with them. The fear and guilt didn't press against him so heavily anymore. He'd become accustomed to it. More or less.

And he'd stopped talking to them.

The evening rolled by. Gilbert eventually returned and made a simple stew and they engaged in a simple conversation while Robin finished the longbow. Simplicity and serenity and safety. It was in the midst of these things that sleep took him.

Robin awoke with a gasp the next morning. The leftover chill from the night still hung in the air and he pulled the blanket closer around his shoulders. Blearily blinking away the sleep induced gunk in his eyes, Robin glanced around. Gilbert sat on a stool in front of him, holding the longbow in his skillful fingers.

"Gilbert?"

"It's time you figured some things out, lad," Gilbert said with a heavy sigh. "Come with me."

Outside, the sun was just starting to peek through the trees, melting away the fog that had clumped up on the ground. Gilbert pushed the bow into his hands, and offered a quiver of arrows to him. Robin remembered doing this when he was young and Gilbert was teaching him how to use a bow. He knew the routine. Robin took an arrow and put it to the string, drawing it back and relishing the feeling of his shoulder muscles pulling and bunching. They remembered this too.

This was a memory that welcomed him with open arms.

Robin aimed at an old tree stump. He leveled his breathing, braced his muscles. Released the string. The arrow flew short, landing a good several feet in front of the target. Robin frowned. It wasn't supposed to happen like that. Last time he pulled on a bow, he did it right.

Robin eagerly grabbed another arrow and let it fly. Again, he missed his target - two feet to the left this time. Another arrow. Overshot. Irritation picked at him. This wasn't how it was supposed to work.

"Who did this to you lad?" Gilbert asked quietly.

Robin faltered. The arrow fell off the string. He stared up at Gilbert, his eyes wide.

Gilbert nodded at the bow. "Keep shooting."

Robin's hands were trembling as he put the arrow back on the string and pulled back.

"What was his name?" Gilbert pressed.

Robin swallowed. "Malys."

The arrow went wide.

"What did he do?"

The little girl sat on the tree stump, staring at him with accusing eyes.

Robin aimed at the ground in front of her but couldn't let the arrow go.

"He made me," Robin whispered, afraid to put words to the actions of the past. And then a cold seething anger rolled across his shoulders and down the length of his arms, curling around his scarred right hand and making it ache. The boy was at his hand, holding it tight.

"How did he do that?"

No no no…He couldn't go near that part. It hurt too much! The wall was too hard and thick here. There were no cracks to be found.

But then there was Gilberts hand on his shoulder, anchoring him to the spot, lending him some strength.

"He took my name," Robin said brokenly. "He beat me and starved me and he stole the important parts…" He stopped, not sure he was making sense. It didn't sound right. But the words burned like acid.

The boy was licking his hand, leaving long red streaks of blood on his skin.

"I killed them," Robin said suddenly. "I killed them both. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to! I couldn't save you and I was lost and I didn't work and he stole me and I'm so so so sorry." The words gushed out of him hard and fast as he looked at the two children. He felt the tears running down his cheeks and the snot dribbling out of his nose and was sure he looked positively pathetic.

The anger was eclipsed by shame and guilt and hurt.

"It was just a man who did this, Robin. Do you know what that means?"

Robin shook his head dumbly.

"It means that God can bring you back. It was God who created you and man tried to destroy that. But God is greater than man."

Robin looked at Gilbert. And he stared at the great wall before him. It loomed over his head, nit together with lies and tricks and stories. Malys had given him each stone and Robin placed them and then Malys had cemented those stones with pain and hunger and fear and shame and guilt.

Something had snapped. In his mind. Somewhere along the line, something had _snapped_. He didn't know what it was or how it worked but something was different now. Anger flowed readily into his body – hot and fast. Anger that Malys had jerked him around so easily. That he'd been broken so thoroughly. Robin had let it happen. Robin Hood had fallen as easily and as completely as any man could.

He pulled back sharply on the bow string. The girl was gone and the stump had taken on a new resemblance – the cold dispassionate face of Malys. But then no, it wasn't Malys. It wasn't about Malys. It had never been about Malys. The stump was a wall. Behind that wall was Robin.

He narrowed his eyes.

"Remember it, Robin. Remember who you are…" Gilbert said softly. A new fresh strength flowed into his heart. Warm and golden. God breathed.

Perhaps he was _not_ destroyed. Broken yes…but maybe not past the point of being fixed again. Things broken could be put back together. It was something that…that needed him to take action. He couldn't just sit idly by and wait for the world to pull him along again.

_You fool! You bloody fool!_

"Make it count, lad." Gilbert squeezed his shoulder.

He let the arrow fly.

The shaft flew straight and true, arching beautifully, striped fletching spinning through the air. It landed in the soft rotting stump still quivering. It wasn't dead center. A bit lower and to the left actually. But it was close enough for him.

The wall shattered.

Robin released a shuddering breath, feeling drained. And alive at the same time. Like he'd spent a long night thrashing about in the throws of a nightmare and waking up more exhausted then before, but _waking up_. Distinct traces of anger still throbbed through his veins but it was more manageable. Shame took its place. Shame for having been so completely taken by Malys. Fear hung in the ambiance as well. A tight gut wrenching fear that this could happen again. It happened once… But a sense of sweet sweet release muddied the mix. Pieces of the wall were still there but he was free to look inside now. Warmth and life flooded his soul again. God had set him free.

He wept.


	16. Chapter 16

-**********UPDATE: This story has gone through a serious overhaul. Some chapters (like the first one) only needed some cosmetic changes to grammar and spelling and the like. Other chapters have had some hardcore corrective surgery. I'm still not completely satisfied but it's infinitely better than it was before. I can only hope my previous readers will agree.**

* * *

Will leaned back against the side of the cliff face. A smile pushed up the corner of his mouth. But it wasn't a truly authentic smile, there was far too much tainting the situation for that. Robin was back. That was cause enough to be joyful. Gilbert and Robin had walked into camp just this morning. The old man greeted them as he ushered the younger man forward. Gilbert's attitude was light and easy going, which put them all at ease. Robin…Robin was different. He carried a longbow in his hands. It was odd to see the bow in his possession. Well…it was odd _not_ to see the bow all curved and shapely like the Saracen bow had been.

Will wondered briefly what had happened to the old bow. And he wondered what had happened to that scarred hand that clutched the new one with a shaky determination. Actually, he puzzled over _all_ of it: the capture, the torture, the whole hairy deal.

"It's good to have you back," Allan was saying as he clapped Robin on the back. The outlaw tried to smile back but the attempt was halfhearted. Much was smiling nice and big, babbling on about what he was going to cook for dinner. But Robin just watched him, eyes flicking back and forth between the ground, the air, and the prattling manservant. He seemed embarrassed. But…_aware. _He seemed aware of what was happening, as apposed to the shaken mess of a man who'd run off into the forest.

Well, good. Maybe they could start to put this all behind them.

Will came up and clasped Robin's hand. Robin's eyes instantly met his. Will realized his mistake: he'd grabbed the wounded hand. But instead of fear, as he'd expected to find in Robin, there was a cold fire that flashed in the depths of his eyes. The fire didn't completely die after Will let go. It simply smoldered there, in the depths. It was something that Will had only seen on rare occasions.

Will nodded in a silent, friendly greeting. For a moment, Robin just looked at him and Will was afraid he'd done something horribly wrong. But then, Robin nodded back.

* * *

"Well?"

Allan sat in his seat, toying with his cup of wine and decidedly _not_ looking at Gisborne. He felt crummy enough as it was. "Robin's back," he mumbled.

"When?" Guy demanded.

"Just a few days ago," Allan lied.

"Where's he been?"

"I dunno, he's all screwy, won't tell us anything," Allan grumbled. He _really_ shouldn't be saying anything else…

"What happened to him?"

Allan shrugged. Guy jerked the goblet out of his hand.

"What happened?" the other man growled.

"I dunno, I swear! I didn't have anything to do with finding him!" Allan insisted. That much was true at least.

"Right…" Guy paced a few steps, clearly thinking. "Is that it?"

"Yeah," he said glumly, feeling like crap. Gisborne tossed him a small velvet bag that landed with a distinct _chink_.

"Did you find Marian?" Allan asked.

Gisborne's face turned deadly. "She hadn't been kidnapped."

"Oh! Well that's good, yeah?" Allan said, hoping he looked surprised enough.

Gisborne narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

Allan shot him a shaky smile, hesitated, then snatched up the bag and beat a hasty retreat from the tavern.

He felt like an idiot. A jerk and an idiot.

* * *

"He's what?" Vaizey roared.

Gisborne glared up at the man. "He's back. Hood's alive."

"How is that possible?"

"It's not like we didn't know he escaped," Guy muttered. The Sheriff glared at him but said nothing, just stewed for a few moments, pacing. He stopped suddenly and stared sideways at Guy in a way that made him uncomfortable.

"How's his mental state?" the Sheriff asked in that sly way of his. Guy wondered how he thought of just that perfect question all the time.

"My spy said he was screwy."

"Screwy eh?" Now the Sheriff was really thinking, those twisted cogs of his mind turning more quickly now. "Screwy…" He drew out the word, seeming to savor the taste of it. "I think we need to have a meeting with our esteemed ally, Lord Mavramorn. And I think a few choice people need to know about it." Vaizey turned to Gisborne, grinning. "It's time to wish Hood well."

* * *

Marian meandered along the lane with a basket in her hands, looking at the usual wares for sale in the market place. Robin peered over a stack of flour sacks, watching her. He felt a knot of nervousness tighten in his stomach but it was overshadowed by the overwhelming desire to hold her.

It had taken him a good hour to convince the gang to let him come to Nottingham in the first place. He'd almost lost his nerve to even argue the point but he forced himself to buck up and do it. And Robin was certainly glad he did now. It didn't take as much arguing as he thought it would, actually. He found a certain amount of guilt in the gang and wasn't ashamed to admit that he used it to his advantage. Anyway, it worked didn't it?

Robin watched Marian as she neared his hiding spot. As she brushed by the flour sacks, he reached out and grabbed her arm, quickly yanking her behind the building and wrapping her up in a tight hug. At first she gasped and tensed under his arms, stunned. But the shock melted away as she realized who he was. She returned the embrace.

"Robin!" she squealed into his ear. He was suddenly gripped with emotion as tears sprung into his eyes and he buried his face in her long brown hair. Robin couldn't let go…just couldn't. Marian didn't pull away, just kept one arm wrapped around his waist while the other traced up and down his back. Her head nestled into the spot where his neck met his shoulders.

"I love you," he mumbled into her hair. "I love you Marian."

"I love you too," she mumbled back. "I've missed you so much."

The thought of missing her made a few tears spill down his cheeks.

Marian pushed him back a bit, concern etching her features. "How are you?" she asked earnestly, eyes searching his.

"Better," he insisted. "I'm better." Honestly, he did feel better. Not perfect by any means…but better. Marian seemed to notice too. She smiled.

"You are." She put a hand on his face, tracing the scars down his cheeks. "I'm glad." Robin couldn't help himself. He pushed forward and kissed her, long and hard and beautifully. She melted into his arms, like she used to do, submitting to the passion and returning it with equal measure.

It was perfect. And beautiful. And—

Someone coughed awkwardly. Robin instantly broke off the display of passion as nerves twisted in his gut…as if he'd done something wrong. He silently berated himself for the lack of confidence.

Much stood, red faced, in front of them. "Sorry to um…interrupt…But we have a...problem."

Robin stared at him for a brief moment, trying to figure out the right way to respond. "What is it?" he finally asked with as much authority as he could muster…which wasn't all that much.

"The Sheriff is meeting another lord. They are creating an alliance," Much informed him. But there was more that the manservant seemed hesitant to share.

"And?"

"And…they're meeting this afternoon. And it'll all become official. The gang…and I…figured that this wasn't a good thing… I mean, it didn't sound right. So we…thought we should break it up," Much offered awkwardly. The man was looking to him for guidance. He was looking for Robin to take charge. Robin turned his gaze back to Marian.

"I'll come with you," she insisted. It was dangerous. He knew she shouldn't come. But there was a selfish part of him that _needed_ her there.

"No, the Sheriff may see you," he said with a sinking feeling.

"I'll stay hidden. If things go badly, you may need my help. I'm coming with you."

"Marian…"

"Robin, do not argue with me," she said firmly. Truthfully, he didn't want too. So he just nodded. Much coughed again.

"We need to move now if we're going to get there in time," Much insisted. Again, Robin nodded.

"Let's go," he said quietly. Marian took his hand.

* * *

The small gang had made a circle around the glade, hiding behind trees and bushes. Marian was crouched beside Robin. She could feel the nervous energy thrumming through his body. All the more reason for her to be where she was, Marian decided.

A brightly colored wagon sat at one end of the glade. Lord Mavramorn. The Sheriff had _just_ pulled up in his own meek looking carriage. Sir Guy was on horseback beside it, with a few choice guards surrounding the whole lot. It crossed Marian's mind that this was an odd place to be meeting.

Vaizey and Mavramorn both walked out and met in the middle of the glade. Words were being exchanged but she couldn't hear them. The Sheriff was grinning like an idiot. Robin was slowly bringing up his bow. But then someone else suddenly appeared from the wagon. A strong looking man in a heavy looking cloak. The man pulled back his hood. The talking between the lord and the sheriff had ceased. And one voice rang out across the dell.

"Attrezzo!"


	17. Chapter 17

-**********UPDATE: This story has gone through a serious overhaul. Some chapters (like the first one) only needed some cosmetic changes to grammar and spelling and the like. Other chapters have had some hardcore corrective surgery. I'm still not completely satisfied but it's infinitely better than it was before. I can only hope my previous readers will agree.**

* * *

It felt as though a massive bolt of lighting had struck the dell. For several sickening moments, no one moved. The sheriff glanced sideways at the newcomer and muttered something, to which the other man did nothing in response. Like a thunderclap, Marian suddenly remembered the man from Robin's execution. She glanced to the side. Robin was shaking. Hard. His eyes were squeezed shut and he was muttering something under his breath.

"Robin?" she whispered. Marian touched his arm and he flinched back, suddenly looking at her. He was terrified. The sight was so shocking… she could hardly believe it. It made her sick to her stomach.

"Attrezzo! You know what I can do! Come out now and I will not harm your friends," Malys ordered. Marian wanted to tell him to shove it. She looked back at Robin. He was taking deliberately deep breaths. Finally, he looked at her again.

"No matter what happens…Marian you must promise me that you will stay hidden," he finally whispered in a shaky voice.

"No. I will not promise that. Robin, what are you planning to—"

"Marian! Please… If you were to get hurt… I _need _you to stay here." He held such a conviction in his voice. But there was something in his eyes that said she must trust him. He was scared silly but…but he still knew something that she did not.

Marian finally nodded. "Ok. I promise."

"Thank you."

* * *

Robin hated himself for what he was about to do. He hated himself because of what he couldn't do. Because he couldn't control himself. Malys' voice reached into his psyche and embedded its claws deep into his soul, yanking him around like a puppet. He felt like he had two people in his head. One who was screaming for him to put an arrow in Malys' skull while the other was screaming to follow his orders. A war was being waged. And the newer self was winning.

Robin _knew_ he was going to do exactly what Malys was telling him to do. And he couldn't do anything about it. But he _did_ have the presence of mind to keep someone he loved from suffering for his mental inadequacies.

"Attrezzo…my patience wares thin."

Robin couldn't stop his body from shaking and for a moment, he feared he physically wouldn't be able to comply too the order. But then he forced his muscles to move, albeit unsteadily. He stood.

Instantly, all eyes were on him. Robin couldn't look around. He couldn't bring himself to meet anyone's gaze. He just stared at the forest floor, thoroughly ashamed.

"Come here Attrezzo."

He shuffled forward. Marian's hand gripped his ankle and he shot her a frantic look which he hoped told her everything she needed to hear. Her eyes were big and disbelieving…but she let go.

Robin walked on stiff legs, further into the glade. Birds were chirping pleasantly. Warm sunlight bathed the area in a delicious glow. The last of the summer flowers stretched out gloriously in the light. The scene should have been beautiful. It should have been some place he would have wanted to come to with Marian. _Only_ Marian. But instead of noticing the beauty that surrounded him, Robin's eyes were focused solely on the thick black shadows that stretched out towards him from the cold hearted men that stood waiting.

He was a fool. A stupid fool! Why couldn't he stop himself?

Because this was overwhelming. The thing which caused his fear was suddenly right in front of him and he didn't know what else to do. It had become real and present and very demanding.

The other man watched him with a cool indifference. The Sheriff cackled excitedly.

"Welcome back, my prodigal son," Malys said. He reached out a hand and cupped Robin's face. Robin flinched back and the hand tightened. "Kneel down," Malys ordered.

Robin felt like he was in a dream. The wall was returning, appearing from the darkness like a nightmare. And yet it was as if everything else before now had been the dream. This was the cold hard reality. There was nothing else in the world right now except Malys and him.

_Attrezzo…_

His knees bent of their own accord and sent him to the ground.

A long length of whip dropped into his view. Robin's stomach clenched. He heard someone shouting. Several someones. The clang of swords echoed around the glade. But who… Oh yes. His gang. His gang was fighting for him. Robin turned his head slightly sideways and saw Much fighting like a mad man, trying to reach him. A glance to the other side showed Djaq and Will, back to back, fighting off the Sheriffs men. Why were they doing this? He'd given himself up because of his own weakness. There was no need for them to risk their necks for him. He wished he could tell them to stop but they were miles away and he was locked in here.

The little dead girl had come up beside him, gripping his hand. He felt the presence of the boy on the other side.

"What is your name?" Malys asked. Much was closer now, pushing his way past the soldiers.

"Attrezzo," Robin said, full of shame. The poison on his tongue was burning but it was right. This was real.

"No!" Much shrieked. "You are Robin Hood!" Robin glanced up sharply. The manservant seemed to sense the gravity of Robin's single word. "We are Robin Hood!" Much yelled. "We are ROBIN HOOD!"

Around the glade, the others answered the call. Several breathy voices called out from amongst the fighting. "We are Robin Hood!"

The whip cracked down. Pain sliced into his mind, ripping a cry from his throat. It burned. It burned so badly… His chest heaved with labored breath as the whip struck again and again.

Why did he have to do this? Why did Robin allow this to happen? Why not fight back? Because he was weak.

Except that he wasn't. Not anymore. He had been, in his cell, listening to Malys prattle on and on. He'd been weak and unable to do anything but listen to the poison that flowed so easily from the man. But he wasn't restrained now. And he wasn't starving. And he wasn't weak.

And he was not alone.

The grip at his hand became urgently tight and Robin snapped his eyes to the girls. Guilt roiled in his gut. This was his punishment. He must endure it if only for them…

_Robin, I forgive you_, she said. She smiled at him. Her face was smooth and pretty, not bloated or blue.

Robin gaped at her.

There was a tug at his other hand and the boy was also smiling.

_I forgive you, Robin_, he said.

The girl kissed his cheek.

They disappeared like mist in the sun.

His heart fluttered.

Robin chanced a glance upwards as Malys raised the whip for another strike. He quickly brought up his arm, the long leather lashing around it. The pain was intense but the fire that had flared up within him was stronger. Robin jerked the whip from Malys' grasp.

"No," Robin managed to say. "No more." His voice was merely a whisper but it was gaining volume.

"Attrezzo—"

"NO!" he shouted. "I will NOT play this game any longer! You have manipulated me from the beginning but I will not listen to you're lies any longer! Everything from your mouth is a lie. Everything! And I listened like a fool…" Robin wasn't really talking to Malys anymore. His frustration and anger surged out of him. "I am Robin Hood!" For a sickening moment, Robin wanted nothing more than to kill the man in front of him. He unwound the whip from his arm, preparing to wrap it around Malys throat. But then he caught himself. Robin Hood is not a killer. He does not kill in cold blood. Ever.

Robin pushed himself upright, glaring at them man who still looked on passively. He held up the whip for a moment then threw it on the ground. Robin regarded Malys for the first time as what he was. Malys was a lie. One big complicated lie. He'd built up lie after lie, twisting them in and out of each other perfectly, blending them with small bits of truth – just enough to mask the rest. And Robin had fed into it like a dumb sheep that walks willingly into the slaughterhouse. The man wasn't nearly as intimidating as before.

Robin finally broke off his stare to glance around the glade. His men were finishing off the soldiers. The battle would soon be over—

He reeled backwards, pain blooming in his face from a punch he didn't see coming. Robin tried to correct himself and launch a counterattack but then he caught the flash of metal an instant before it struck.

* * *

Marian's heart had all but stopped. Robin had confronted the man. For several long horrified moments, Marian thought they'd made a terrible mistake. Robin was still broken, his mind still fractured. He couldn't possible realize what he was doing! And yet she couldn't move to stop him… Her body was frozen in horror as Malys pulled out the whip. But the others weren't so frozen. The gang had leapt into dell, instantly met with soldiers but they didn't seem to care. But Marian couldn't move. She could only watch as her lover was beaten.

But then…then Robin did something unexpected. He stopped Malys, confronted him. Seemed to gain something back that he'd been missing. But it wasn't his brain… He turned his attention _away_ from the other man. Marian saw the blow coming a mile away. Just as well as she'd seen the flash of steel. She didn't think at that point, only reacted. Marian snatched up Robin's discarded bow and fired. The arrow was off by a foot. But it still struck Malys. She'd expected the man to drop his dagger in pain and shock. Only he didn't… the blade still found a mark in Robin's body.

Marian screamed in horror.

Things, people, moved around her. She was vaguely aware of Malys struggling to get into the Sheriffs carriage while snorting horses strained to pull it out of danger as quickly as possible. She was also vaguely aware of the gang finishing off the soldiers, chasing off those who still had the wits to run into the woods. But her eyes were fixed solely on one man, the man who was lying in a crumpled heap on the ground - the man she was running towards for all she was wroth.

"Robin!" She fell on her knees by his side. He was staring up at the sky, his face twisted in anguish. His hands automatically started pulling at the dagger embedded in his shoulder. But they were weak and shaking. She gently took both hands. "Robin, hold still. You must hold still." He closed his eyes and squeezed her hands. Then his body went lax. "Djaq!" Marian screamed, searching frantically for the Saracen. She was already running towards them.

Djaq rushed in, kneeling down and tracing around the wound with her finger. Then the woman started to smile. "He's going to be ok," she said, almost in disbelief. "Look, it's just a flesh wound." Marian forced herself to study the wound. The dagger had hit his right shoulder. Nothing vital was over there, if she remembered correctly.

Marian closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. Thank God. He was going to be fine. Actually, he was already starting to stir. Robin moaned, his eyelids fluttering open. Marian gently ran her hand down the side of his face. "Robin, I'm here," she said quietly.

"Marian…" he said breathlessly. She smiled. He lifted his head, wincing. "I was stabbed," he stated. It was more of a question then anything.

"Yes," she informed him. He made a face. Marian snorted a laugh out of habit. Robin scowled at her.

"It's not funny," he insisted. Those three words were more like the old Robin than anything she'd seen or heard in months. Marian smiled.

"You're right, I'm sorry."

Robin let his head flop back against the ground with a dejected sigh.

"Robin…what happened?" Marian asked quietly. It wasn't a smart thing to ask and it sort of slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it. Robin glared at her.

"Marian, don't ask me that," he said firmly. "Don't ever ask me what happened here."

She was taken aback. There was such a conviction in his voice, it scared her. A cold fire burned behind his eyes for a moment.

"What did Malys do to you?" she pressed.

"It doesn't matter."

"Robin—"

"It doesn't matter!" Robin snapped. "It's finished. It doesn't matter anymore."

She studied him quietly for a moment. "Will you ever tell me?"

He looked defeated. "Maybe. Maybe when we're old," he said. It would have to do. Marian could see she wouldn't get anything from him. And maybe that was for the best. When Robin was ready, he would tell her what happened here. She could be patient.

"If this ever becomes too much to bare alone, you'll let me help you?" she asked. He regarded her with a careful, guarded gaze. Then finally nodded. Marian smiled. "Good."

"Where are my men?" Robin asked. Marian signaled to the group standing a several feet away. They all crowded around the prone figure. Robin looked at each one in turn. "Thank you. All of you," he said sincerely. Will smiled with a knowing glint in his eye.

"It's good to have you back Robin."


	18. Chapter 18

**-************UPDATE: This story has gone through a serious overhaul. Some chapters (like the first one) only needed some cosmetic changes to grammar and spelling and the like. Other chapters have had some hardcore corrective surgery. I'm still not completely satisfied but it's infinitely better than it was before. I can only hope my previous readers will agree.**

**A/N:** Well folks, this is it; the last chapter. It's really more of an epiloge, just something to add closure. It's been a great ride, i hope ya'll enjoyed it too. Many thanks for the many reviews! I hope you'll join me for the next epic adventure!

-Arem

* * *

"You failed!" Vaizey roared. The mercenary lord lifted up a game piece from a board and studied it.

"Indeed," he said offhandedly.

"You said you could break him!"

"And so I did."

"He should be blubbering mess right now!" the Sheriff growled.

"No," Malys said curtly. "He should be dead right now. But that is the fault of your own person, is it not? I made no promises about his long-term mental health." The man eyed Vaizey for a moment before setting the game piece back down on the board. The Sheriff planted his hands on either side of the table and leaned in low.

"You were supposed to be the best," he hissed. Malys' eyes flicked from one hand to the other and then back to the game board.

"Robin of Locksley has a very complex mind. And complex minds stand a greater chance of seeing past a ruse. He has escaped the trap but I assure you, it was not without deep scarring." Malys stared up at the Sheriff, his eyes reaching deep within. "Consider this a victory. You have severely damaged your enemy."

Vaizey twitched. "I want my money back. You promised me Hood's head on a platter and failed."

In a finger snap, Malys was flying out of his chair and the Sheriff was suddenly being slammed down onto the table, face up. A dagger hovered dangerously near his throat while a strong hand wrapped around his neck, exuding just enough pressure to make him gasp a little. And still, the lords' face was passive.

"As I said before, I made no promises. If you need my services again, be sure you're ready for what I bring you."

* * *

**Two Months Later…**

"AHHHH!"

Robin rolled his eyes and muttered a curse under his breath. "I'm coming Much!" he yelled. Robin launched himself over the hay wagon, clutching his bow in his hand as he took off in the direction of the former manservant. He sorely wished that the others had come. Wished that he hadn't sent them off to make the rounds while he and Much took on this little mission. If the others had been here, maybe this wouldn't have happened.

If only if only…

Robin stopped and leaned forward with his hands on his knees while he caught his breath. He idly mused over the irritating fact that his body _still_ wasn't in good condition again. Nearly there, but not quite good yet.

The leaves crunched under his feet. Autumn had nestled in and was almost ready to yield its hold on the land to the crisp winter weather. Only a few leaves still clung stubbornly to the branches. How fast the time went… It seemed like only a month ago it was spring and now the snow was all but falling. Summer had flow by in a finger snap. Although, he _had_ been a bit preoccupied during the summer months—

No. He wouldn't let himself dwell on that. Not even a muse. It was a rule that kept him going…among other things.

"ROBIN!" came a distant yell. Robin huffed and pushed himself forward.

"Robin?" A new voice. A sweet melodic voice. Marians voice. He skidded to a stop. She was sitting on a big brown mare with a cute confused look on her face. The wind picked up a lock of her beautiful hair and twirled it against the heavy green fabric of her dress.

"Marian!" He ran over to her. "What are you doing out here?"

"I was able to get away for the afternoon," she explained. "Why are you running?"

Robin pointed behind him. "Much. He's being chased." Instantly, she looked alarmed. And then she turned the alarmed look on him. Robin inwardly cringed. He used the _wrong_ words. No one fully trusted him yet. They constantly were second guessing him. It was bad enough that he kept second guessing _himself_, let alone the added pressure of everyone else. But he understood. Mostly.

"Much? We should go and—"

Robin couldn't help himself, he snickered. It felt horrible to have people always thinking that he was backsliding but it was _so_ tempting to have a little fun with it. So tempting…

"He'll be fine," Robin insisted. "Maybe a little bruised but he'll be fine."

"Robin you cannot leave your friends like this. We need to go and help him!" she said everything slowly, as if she were explaining it to a child. Ok, that wasn't as fun as he thought it'd be. Actually, that backfired a little more then he thought it would. No more playing.

"Sheep."

She blinked. "What?"

"He's being chased by sheep," Robin said with a bemused smirk. "The Sheriff is having a harvest feast something-or-other and took a bunch of sheep from the herdsmen so we took them back."

"Sheep." Marian was starting to smile now.

"The ram doesn't like Much." Robin suddenly sobered. He cleared his throat, the smile gone from his face. "You can trust me Marian. I wouldn't be standing here if one of my gang were in serious trouble."

She instantly looked ashamed. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I guess it takes some getting use to." Robin took her hand and laced his fingers in-between hers.

"For you and me both," he assured her. "It's ok."

A hysterical scream cut through the trees. Robin craned his neck and peered behind Marian's horse. Much was running straight for them, chased by a disgruntled ram with long curled horns.

"Robin!" Much shrieked when he caught sight of them. Marian suppressed a snicker behind her hand.

"Much! What did I tell you about looking at the ewes? Did I not say the ram would be jealous?" Robin joked, his face stern.

"Oh yes! Very funny! HELP ME!" Much yelled as he tore past them. Robin grinned as he pulled loop of rope off his shoulder and turned towards Marian.

"One moment love." He winked. Then he waited for the charging sheep. When came near, he let fly his lasso, catching the ram by its horns. The rope pulled tight and Robin felt like his arms were being torn from his shoulders as the big sheep jerked to a stop stunning both man and beast as the thing did a near flip and landed on its big woolly back. For a second Robin stared at the mass of dirty white on the ground, hoping he didn't break the things neck. But then it slowly and drunkenly started the task of standing up again. Robin smiled.

"It's safe Much!" he called out. Much's head appeared from behind a tree a few yards off.

"It's about time!" he yelled. "You certainly took long enough!" He slowly trudged back towards them. "Far be it from me to ask that you save your loyal servant instead of ogling the pretty lady on the horse." Much paused in his tirade. "Hello Marian."

"Good afternoon Much."

"Well it's your own bloody fault for eyeing the ewes," Robin shot back.

"I was not 'eyeing' them! I was…merely finding the best one for eating on the off chance that you would actually let us keep one," Much retorted.

"How 'bout that one?" Robin pointed to the ram.

"_That_ is the spawn of Satan himself!"

Robin rolled his eyes. "Well take your demon sheep and get back to camp," Robin said, pushing the rope into Much's hand.

"Why me? Where are you going to be?"

"_I _am going with Marian."

"Actually, I do need him Much," Marian insisted. "We have some planning to do."

"We do?" Robin asked. Marian smiled at him.

"Yes, we do."

Much rolled his eyes. "Well that's just…dandy. You two go off and plan some great adventure while I wrangle the demon sheep." He tromped off with the groggy ram in tow.

"Thanks Much," Robin called after him. The other man waved him off, not saying anything. Robin turned back to Marian. "Planning?"

"Yes. I was thinking we could sit under the big oak tree at the edge of the old field and eat the meal that I packed while we discuss how we are going to convince Much to baby-sit our future children," she said with a smirk. Robin grinned and swung himself onto the back of the horse.

"Lead on m'lady," he said into her ear. The horse moved beneath him as Robin wrapped his arms around her waist. The situation suddenly seemed very _right_. As if nothing horrible had happened at all. The sun was shinning, the air was cool, and he had his love in his arms as the galloped through the forest. There was a twinge of sadness as he realized that this wouldn't last forever. But he was confident now, more then ever that he would survive.

All was well with the world and Robin Hood would survive.

* * *

**Fin.**


	19. UPDATE NOTICE

**UPDATE: This story has gone through a serious overhaul. Some chapters (like the first one) only needed some cosmetic changes to grammar and spelling and the like. Other chapters have had some hardcore corrective surgery. I'm still not completely satisfied but it's infinitely better than it was before. I can only hope my previous readers will agree.**


End file.
